


CollegeAngels.com

by tiptoe39



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pornstars, Rimming, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiptoe39/pseuds/tiptoe39
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Dean and Sam have always been a little too close, and Dean knows it's wrong -- so he heads to college, hoping that he'll meet someone there who will keep his mind off his little brother. He meets Castiel, who has a business proposal for him --- join Cas in bed, and online, for live webcam site CollegeAngels.com. Through Castiel, Dean learns about sex, kink, and freedom, and he finally feels pride instead of shame for who he is. But then Sam gets accepted to the same school, and he wants to live with Dean...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/profile)[**obstinatrix**](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/) for an amazing beta and [](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/)**dazedrose** for panty-melting art! If you liked the art please drop by her [master art post](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/11005.html) and leave some love!

 

 

Chapter 1

  


It’s inevitable that Sam ends up rooming with Dean at college. Their parents try to talk him out of it, but it has been a futile battle from the beginning. There’s just no separating them, and no amount of “You should make friends,” or “Learn to be your own men,” or “Haven’t you lived together long enough?” is going to change that. The minute the college acceptance letter comes, Sam has made up his mind.  
  
Actually, their minds are made up long before that. Since they were children, Dean and Sam have been whispering to each other, making promises that someday they’ll get to sleep in the same room again, maybe even the same bed. They’re forced into separate rooms when he’s nine and Sam has just turned seven, after two years of their parents trying to keep them from crawling into each other’s bed after the lights had gone out. They wake up tangled together and endure a torrent of tough talk from their father about how they need to not do that, big boys don’t sleep in the same bed.  
  
There are several months of a child psychologist, too. Lots of talking to puppets and putting together puzzles in an office that smells funny and has a bunch of big books on the shelves with names Dean can’t pronounce. It’s boring, but at least he doesn’t have to do homework during that one hour a week. By the end of it all Dean is no less lonely at night, but he does have a clearer idea of what’s OK to talk about and what has to be kept secret.  
  
He starts setting his alarm earlier so Sam can sneak out of his room by daylight. And he stops kissing Sam on the cheek and saying “I love you” in public. His parents think he’s gotten better. But he’s just gotten smart.  
  
It’s stupid, he thinks, that there should be so many rules. Why can’t he hold hands with his brother? But he can’t. Just like he can’t be popular in junior high unless he has a girlfriend. So he gets one, and he holds hands with her instead, and it feels like nothing, but whatever. The guys at school like him, and Sammy still thinks he’s cool. And Sammy still holds his hand when nobody’s around. 

When junior high becomes high school, the girlfriend of the week startsasking Dean to kiss her. So Dean does. And that feels like nothing, too. Just... wet. He doesn’t even like it much with tongue, that’s just wetter.  


  
When Sam’s voice changes, though -- that feels like something. When Sam suddenly shoots up a few inches taller than Dean. When Sam comes to him, flustered, at the age of fourteen and demands Dean talk to him alone.  
  
Dean has to look up at him, even when they sit together on the bed. Mom and Dad aren’t home yet, and even if they were, it’s safe for them to hang out together there now as long as the door is open. Their parents have started to believe they’ve grown out of their “clingy phase,” as Mom puts it. But seeing Sam like this, all long torso and his Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny throat, eyes full of questions -- Dean is starting to feel kinda like he does when things get hot and heavy with Julia in the back seat of the car, all weird and like something isn’t quite right, but his body is tingling with all the contact. Times like that he can forget how weird it all is and just let himself go to a mindless, happy place.  
  
Sam shatters the happiness in four words. “Dean, I have a girlfriend.”  
  
Dean blinks. A clutch of anger, hot in his chest, makes him swallow hard. “And?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.  
  
“And she wants me to kiss her.”  
  
Now he wants to take a building apart with his bare hands. Screw that, screw Sammy kissing girls. But Dean kisses girls. He does more than that. Because he has to, those are the rules. No, he can’t get mad at Sammy. He just doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel. So, numbly, he just repeats himself. “And?”  
  
“And I don’t want to.”  
  
Relief deadens the anger in a minute. As long as Sam isn’t into it, it seems totally okay. In fact, it’s probably good. They both have to pretend they’re normal. Sam should be kissing girls. “Why not?”  
  
Sam’s lip curls. “You said it was gross.”  
  
Dean shrugs. “It’s not gross, it’s just weird.”  
  
“I’m scared.” Sam leans forward on the bed.  
  
“It’s not a big deal, Sammy.“  
  
But Sam’s eyes are wide and wondering, and Dean knows what he wants. He nods. “OK, but you know we have to keep it secret, right?”  
  
Joy radiates from Sam. “I know, I promise. Our secret.” Dean didn’t have to ask. They’re good at keeping secrets by now.  
  
Dean leans forward, slides a hand under Sam’s chin and angles it down so Dean can reach his mouth. Their lips slide over each other briefly at first. Sam’s eyelashes beat a sudden flutter against Dean’s cheek.  
  
“That wasn’t gross,” Sam says. His voice quavers on a single note, almost like he’s chanting.  
  
“That’s not how it usually feels,” Dean replies. He can’t take his eyes off Sam’s mouth. He must sound hypnotized. Surprise is ricocheting like a pinball in his ribcage. That felt like a kiss ought to feel, like the movies make kisses look like they feel. Jesus,he wants to do it again.  
  
But he’s seventeen now, and he’s old enough and smart enough to understand that this is the unspoken fear behind the child psychologist and the separation and the insistence of their parents that they outgrow their “clingy phase.” This is what Mom and Dad were afraid they might do. And even though Dean knows it’s not normal, even at seventeen he can’t figure out why it’s wrong.  
  
It is, though, and even if Dean doesn’t care about being messed up, he cares about Sam, and he isn’t gonna do anything to mess up Sam--  
  
“Do it again.”  
  
He blinks. Sam won’t let him look away. Won’t let go of his gaze with the big, pleading eyes.  
  
“Do it again, Dean, I want to do it again.”  
  
“Sammy, we can’t.” His words ring so hollow that they feel like ghosts of themselves. Nobody could believe words that thinly spoken.  
  
“Dean.”  
  
Sam has a way of pressing Dean’s name against the flat of his tongue that stops Dean’s thoughts in their tracks under the best of circumstances. Right now, with his blood singing under his skin, Dean  
can’t even try to resist. His hands tighten on Sam’s jaw, and he leans forward instinctively, catching Sam’s lips under his and pressing in hard. Sam’s tongue has darted out to wet his lips, and Dean catches it in mid-lick. A lurch of heat shoots through him, and he groans, horrified at the sound but unable to stop it. Sam’s soft whimper just underneath his groan makes him even crazier.  
  
He licks at the tip of Sam’s tongue as it retreats, and Sam gives a sharp gasp, pulling at Dean so they both lose their balance and topple. And then, God, Dean’s pressing Sam into the bed, kissing him harder, their bodies running together like two bright lines, and somewhere at his hip Sam is hard, an insistent poke up into Dean’s body that feels like everything right and wrong at once --  
  
Dean pulls himself off. Sam whimpers again and reaches up for him.  
  
“Stop it, Sammy,” Dean says, brusque, turning away.  
  
“Dean...!” Desperation in Sam’s voice, like the world is ending.  
  
“We can’t do that.” Dean rises, walks to the opposite wall. His own dick is throbbing painfully, his balls starting to ache. Fuck, he’s messed up, he’s going to go to jail for this. “Damn it.” He leans his forehead against the wall and sighs, willing himself to deflate.  
  
But Sam won’t let him. “Why?” he asks. “Why can’t we? Nobody’s gonna know.”  
  
“I’m gonna know,” Dean says, and Sam falls silent. Guilt crushes Dean, and he winces and forces himself to turn to face Sam. “Don’t you get it? It’s not that I don’t want to. But it’s wrong.”  
  
“Why?” Sam asks, and Dean has no answer, no matter how many times he struggles to find the words.  
  
With a sigh, he sits down on the bed. “OK.” he relented. “We can kiss. A little. But nothing more than that, OK? You get horny, you go jerk off in your own room. Understand? You’re a kid, Sammy.” Sam frowns, back stiffening. “I get it, you’re growing up, but you’re still a kid, and I won’t be responsible for screwing you up.”  
  
Sam nodded. “I get it.” His hands go to his waist, pushes down on his pants. He looks ashamed, Dean realizes, and it’s the first time Dean’s seen that shame on Sam’s face. Nothing Mom or Dad said has ever made Sam look like that, and Dean knows it’s half his own fault. He’s the one who’s led Sam here, who’s taught him not to care. It’s only Dean’s opinion that’s worth a damn in Sam’s eyes, and for the first time, Dean has shot him down. It hurts to watch. But even so, Sam’s a kid. Sam’s a kid and this is wrong.  
  
“But once you grow up,” he mutters, then stops.  
  
Sam jerks upward. Still trying to cover his erection, he eases up to sit next to Dean. “Once I grow up?”  
  
“Yeah.” Dean bites his lip. “Once we’re grown up, we--”  
  
“Tell me,” Sam says breathlessly, pressing in closer to him. “What we do when we’re grown up.”  
  
OK, Dean thought. I can still make this normal. Us, but still... normal. “We’ll... we’ll grow up, and go to college, right? And then... and then we’ll open a garage together. You know. I’ll fix cars, and you’ll do  
all the nerdy numbers stuff. And at the end of the day we’ll hang out, and you’ll be old enough to drink beer, then--” never mind Dean isn’t old enough either, doesn’t mean he hasn’t--  “and we’ll drink beer, and when we get sleepy we’ll just... we’ll go to bed, and nobody will tell us we can’t sleep together, Sammy, I’ll climb in bed and so will you and we’ll curl up together and--”  
  
Sam gives a soft _nngh_ noise and slumps abruptly against Dean’s shoulder, breathing quickly. Dean looks over, at first afraid that Sam is having some kind of seizure, but then he sees the wet stain  
spreading across the front of Sam’s pants. Horror freezes him, and while he stares, Sam lifts his head again and stares back at him through bleary eyes, smiling stupidly.  
  
“Sorry,” he says, like it was some sort of innocent mistake. “I got really...”  
  
“Get out.” Dean jumps from the bed like it’s caught fire. “Go away.”  
  
“Dean,” Sam still sounds half-mad with bliss. “Come on.”  
  
“Go change.” Dean turns away. “Before Mom and Dad come home. Get out of here.” His heart is hammering. He can’t do this, can’t be part of it.  Sam is fourteen.  Fourteen!  
  
Sick at heart, half-sure he’s going to hell, Dean hides in his room the rest of the night. He can’t meet Sam’s eyes for a week. Chaste, don’t-know-why-it’s-wrong kissing was one thing, but Sam turned it into an abomination in a single overwhelmed moment, and now Dean feels like a monster. It wasn’t Sam’s fault. Sam didn’t know any better, couldn’t control himself. And maybe Dean can’t control himself either, when his hand drifts south and he thinks about the noise Sam made. But he won’t be part of dragging Sam down to hell with him.  
  
No matter how many times he jerks off with Sam’s name trembling just behind his lips, no matter how many times he sees that guilty look on Sam’s face and knows he’s been doing the same, Dean can’t control himself. And he is terrified of the day he leaves his bedroom and does something he’ll regret.

  


So he leaves the house, instead.  
  
Dean’s not smart enough to skip a grade like Sam is, but he’s smart enough to make it through high school and get into college, albeit just a local one. It’s a decent school, though, and it has vocational courses as well as the usual liberal arts education, and Dean really wants to learn how to fix cars. He’s gonna be a mechanic, he tells Mom and Dad, much to their horror, and he endures their tirade about how a liberal arts education is important and Dean shouldn’t cut off any career pathways, because the important part isn’t the career, the important part is getting them to let him live on campus. Which they’re surprisingly good about, despite the cost. Maybe their fears about him and Sam aren’t so assuaged after all. 

  
He doesn’t tell Sam until after he's secured his place at school and his room, and, predictably, Sam freaks out. “You're leaving?” he says, his eyes wide with the beginnings of tears, and his hands seize Dean's. Dean snaps at him not to cry, and Sam blinks back the tears, anxious to be a man about it. Or, at least, to be Dean's definition of a man. Dean hates himself all the more for the way Sam struggles to do just what Dean said. It’s a sickening power to have, and Dean can only think of what he could do with it. What he wants to do with it. God,  no .  
  
“I thought we were gonna go away together,” Sam says. “And start a garage, and--”  
  
“I gotta go to school for that first.” Dean tries to give him the most level, chaste, big-brother gaze he can. “Look at me, Sammy.” Sam turns away. “Come on.” He grabs Sam's chin, forces him to meet his eyes. “You know what we want to do, we can't do. You know that, right?”  
  
“But nobody will know.” Sam tries to press forward. Still, even after a half a year of trying, Dean still hasn't gotten Sam to see things the way they need to be. “That's the whole point, right? We'll go away together, and we'll live together, and Dean--”  
  
He’s too close, his eyes bright with betrayal and want, and Dean can’t resist as Sam pushes into his arms, seals his lips over Dean's in a slow, aching kiss. Dean tries to open his mouth to talk, and Sam’s there, filling the space with the wet press of his tongue, moaning as he grabs Dean by the shoulders, holds him fast. Dean tries his best not to react or kiss back, but the moan that rises up in his throat is an animal all its own, and Dean can’t hold it back any more than he can keep Sam away.  
  
“I love you, Dean,” Sam murmurs. “Love you and want to be with you. You know I never had a girlfriend, right? Never kissed that girl. The minute we kissed, I knew it was just you. Would always be you.”  
  
“Sam--” But Dean's hands are closed over Sam's arms, are stroking his skin and sliding under his sleeves. “Sam, stop.”  
  
“Why?” Sam rocks against Dean's body. His stomach is hard, built. Warm and flat against the telltale jut of Dean's cock. “I can feel you want this, Dean. If nobody knows but us, what harm could it do?”  
  
“What harm-- you're fifteen!” Dean spits. “Shit, Sam, we're brothers and you're a kid and we just-- God, we can't.” He pushes backward, disgusted, his stomach burning up his throat.  
  
“Look at me!” Sam spreads his arms wide. “Do I look like a kid anymore, Dean? I'm taller than you. Hell, you might not wanna hear it, but I'm stronger than you, too. If I wanted to I could beat the crap out of you for leaving me.”  
  
“But you won't.” Dean points a finger at him. “Because that's not who you are. You're Sammy, and you're sweet, and innocent, and you're a kid, and I'm not going to screw you up. I'm just not.”  
  
“So you'll leave?” Sam's voice falters.  
  
“If that's what it takes.”  
  
Sam sighs. Stepping back, closing the circle of his arms, he leans heavily against the wall. “Fine,” he says softly. “Fine, Dean. If that's what you've got to do. But I'm not giving up.”  
  
Dean dares to stay quiet. He wants to see what Sam has to say.  
  
“If you won't do it because I'm a kid,” Sam goes on, “I'll wait. I'll wait until I'm legal. And then I'm gonna come to college with you, Dean, and you're gonna be done making excuses. We're gonna be together.”  
  
“Sam,” Dean says, but he has no words to follow up the name.  
  
“You think I don't know how weird this is? I've been on the Internet, Dean. I know it's fucked up. But it's fucked up because most of the time it's abuse. Most of the time it's one brother forcing the other one. That's not what this is. You know it and so do I. It's a one-in-a-million chance, maybe. But we're the one in a million. So if you won't believe that until I'm old enough to give informed consent, then fine, we'll wait.”  
  
“And what if you change your mind?” Dean says. The fear in his voice startles him, and he struggles to recover. “What if I do? What if one of us meets someone?”  
  
“Then it wasn't meant to be and it'll suck, but we'll move on.” Sam smiles. “That's how these things work. All I know is right now, I want to be with you, and I'm willing to wait for you. Dean, it's OK. It's all gonna be fine.”  
  
He’s smiling like the freaking Dalai Lama. How the hell can he do that? Have that much confidence? He really is a kid, Dean thinks bitterly. Either that, or he’s wiser than Dean, which is even scarier. Because if Sam’s right, that means Dean is stuck with this curse forever. He'll just go on wanting his brother, and even if he doesn’t end up in jail he'll still be a freak for life.  
  
“OK,” he says, mustering up a smile. “Fair deal, Sammy. If you can make it to 18, and this-- this thing isn't gone, we'll give it a try. But in the meantime, you can't tell anyone.”  
  
“Never have,” Sam says evenly. “Never will.” He leaned in, kisses Dean on the mouth once, and leaves the room, smiling.  
  
Dean stands there for a long while, staring at the spot where Sam stood. Things are starting to crystallize. There is a way out of this after all. All he has to do is go to school and meet someone else. 

  


  


That turns out to be remarkably easy to do.  
  
From the moment he arrives, Dean finds himself in the weird situation of being a chick magnet. Girls who are a year ahead of him, who can slide under a junker and have it purring in a half-hour, suddenly forget the most basic things and need a refresher from Dean in his T-shirt with his arm muscles bulging beneath it. Their gaze wanders, Dean asks a question and they answer in a dazed voice if they can remember to answer at all -- it’s all something out of a Playboy fantasy, honestly.  
  
A fantasy, but Dean finds himself demurring more often than not. Oh, he’ll take them up on their offers of dates and rides in beautifully restored classic cars and tickets to the best concerts. And he’ll kiss them, soft lips against his own, pretty bodies pushing against him demanding more. But he can never quite get past the semi-heavy petting stage. His body won’t react the way he wants it to, the way it should. Not because they aren’t beautiful or because he doesn’t like them. Because there’s always something that reminds him of Sam. A sigh or a moan or the brush of a hand against his hardening cock and it’s Sam he’s kissing, Sam whose voice he’s hearing from across the state waiting for him, begging him to stay true. And Dean breaks off the kiss, pulls his shirt back on, and sits with his head in his hands, muttering “sorry” until the girl, disappointed but overcome with sympathy, tells him it’s all right and drives him home.  
  
There’s only so much of that he can take before he gives up on dating altogether. It’s not happening. His heart isn’t letting it happen.  
  
It’s not long before rumors start to fly. Dean is aware of them, but he doesn’t much care. At least the constant pressure of attention is finally off him. And he doesn’t mind just concentrating on his books and, mostly, his cars. That’s something he can love, sweat over, slave over, and devote his whole attention to for days on end. A couple of classes a day and then good music, a garage, the smell of grease -- he’s good there, and he doesn’t feel the loss. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he’s supposed to be trying like hell to meet someone, anyone that will take his mind off Sammy, but it just isn’t happening. If worst comes to worst, he tells himself, he’ll have to lie.  
  
He slides out from under the car one day and finds himself looking up at an upside-down face.  
  
"The hell?" He nearly bangs his head on the car above him. The face tilts, as though trying to see him more clearly from a different angle. "Uh, can I help you?"  
  
"Hello, Dean." Unsmiling, just spoken, as though read from a teleprompter.  
  
"Um, hello. You mind moving back so I can get out from under this car?" Because the face is attached to a body standing exactly where Dean has to slide the dolly if he wants to get vertical again.  
  
"Sorry." Said face and body retreats, and Dean finds his way right-side-up again. Getting to his feet, he fights past a rush of dizziness and blinks his way back to focus.  
  
The guy who's greeted him is a lean boy with a mess of dark hair that stands up as though he spends hours every day with his finger plugged into a light socket. Though he stands ramrod-straight, still unsmiling, there is a kind of ease about the way his arms fall at his side, the intensity of his stare. He is, Dean thinks, completely focused, without any self-consciousness or worry about how he'll be received. It’s weirdly impressive, though at first glance the guy seems as sober and tense as you can get.  
  
"So," Dean says. "You were about to tell me who the hell you are and what you want?"  
  
"My name is Castiel," the boy says. "I want--"  
  
And completely inexplicably, his eyes sweep down the length of Dean's body, and he smirks.  
  
Dean feels his skin prickle in response to the look. It’s more brazen than any leering glance he's ever gotten from a girl, and undeniably sexual, but at the same time there’s something almost businesslike about it. It’s a weird hybrid feeling, and Dean has no idea how to approach it. He stands silently, lets himself be appraised, and just squints at this Castiel guy, trying to figure him out.  
  
"Yes," Castiel says, "I think you'll do."  
  
"Huh?" Dean realizes he's been clutching his grease rag like a church lady might hang onto a handkerchief. He throws it to the floor with a decisive fling. "What will I do, exactly, and who the hell are you?"  
  
Castiel's eyes meet Dean's, and Dean realizes for the first time just how bright and huge they are, like something out of a cartoon. Blue, too, the color of fresh paint. "I'm a student. I'm in two of your classes. You haven't noticed me. And as for what you'll do... that's what I'd like to talk to you about. Can I buy you a drink?"  
  
Dean bit his lip. "I'm underage, dude."  
  
"That's why I'll buy it."  
  
They’re halfway back to Castiel's place with a six-pack of beer before it hits Dean that Castiel must have stayed back a year or two in high school to be over twenty-one and in the same classes as Dean. And yet he doesn’t seem like a dumb guy. Simple-minded, maybe, but not dumb. Maybe he has a disorder of some sort. Not that it’s really worth it to speculate. Dean’s getting free beer out of whatever this is, so he'd better keep his theories to himself.  
  
As for what this is, Castiel says that it’s a business proposition. There’s money in it for Dean, far more than he can earn as a gas station attendant or convenience store clerk, and he can pretty much make his own hours. Dean asks him why Castiel has come to him about it ("That will all become very clear,") whether he does the same job ("yes, and I enjoy it very much") and, of course, what kind of a job it is ("Pleasure before business, Dean. Let's have a drink first."). The whole thing is mysterious and suspicious as hell, but Dean can’t seem to figure out what it could be. Maybe he’s just slow. Or maybe the ridiculous hugeness of Castiel's eyes, the almost hypnotic motions of his body, are draining the brain power right out of him. 

They have a few beers, discuss professors, and Castiel has leaned forward to impart a rumor about a mutual classmate when Dean realizes he’s turned on. It’s a brand-new sensation, to be turned on by someone who isn’t Sam, and it thrills the hell out of him. This was the problem the whole time. He’s been trying to get turned on by girls and it hasn’t worked. He needed a guy. A gorgeous guy, one like Castiel. The way out of pining after Sam is finally right in front of him. He nods, grins, and listens, enjoying the pleasant prickle up his spine. His head is buzzing with possibilities. 

But he's afraid, because he knows just how screwed-up he is. If he starts something with Castiel, that'll come up eventually, and then he'll be even more alone, more screwed-up for having lost someone to the fact that he's got a hard-on for his little brother. Maybe Cas isn't the right one to distract him after all. Not when he thinks about Sam and still aches with how much he wants to pull him close and touch him in every possible way. The separation isn't complete enough.

"So you've been hinting at some kind of business opportunity," Dean says, his voice tripping over the words. They have far too many syllables for this much alcohol in him. "A part-time job?"

"You could call it that, yes." There's something oddly vague and grave about Castiel, even when he's drunk, and Dean finds it sexy as hell. He sits forward, examining the crease of his forehead and the thick line of his jaw, rough with stubble. So severe, but wry at the same time. Like a guy who knows his way around the darker side of life. And here he is teasing Dean with vague hints, a soft smile. Dean's impure thoughts are going to swallow him up, consequences be damned.

"Well, I'm always up for making some cash," Dean says, "but you're being pretty cryptic, dude. Can't you give me at least an idea what I'd have to do for the money?"

Castiel grins widely. Dean feels the expression like a lightning shot to the gut. 

"Sure," Castiel says, and he reaches forward to pull Dean's face to his. His fingers stretch long and curved over Dean's cheeks. "I'll give you a hint."  Dean struggles to take in a breath. The next thing he knows, Castiel is kissing him, long and deliberate, sucking softly on his slack lips, then pulling away and staring at Dean through benign blue eyes.

"Um," Dean says dumbly.

Castiel's fingers remain pressed into his cheeks. He's smiling.

Dean takes in a hurried breath and lunges forward. He kisses Cas hard, pressing his lips against Castiel's with purpose, hands coming up to claw at his shoulders. He groans into the kiss, louder when he feels Castiel's mouth part against his own. They're not close enough, not nearly. Dean yanks Castiel across the couch, tries to pull the lanky body on top of him, swinging his legs up onto the couch so Cas can collapse on top of him. God, he wants. His fingertips crawl up into the base of Castiel's hairline, slide beneath his collar and try to yank off his shirt. Fire is making its way up his spine.

Castiel gasps against his mouth. "Wait, Dean. Stop."

"You started it," Dean says between kisses pressed up into Castiel's jaw and neck.

"I know," Castiel says, and gasps. His body shudders in Dean's arms. "Oh, God, Dean, I know. But... but not yet." He pulls off, sits up straight on the couch and looks at Dean with hard eyes.

Dean's hands go slack and slide off Castiel. He sits up, too. "Why the hell not?"  

"Because," Castiel says. His sly smile re-emerges. "That's the part you get paid for."

"What?" 

Castiel shrugs. He licks his lips, re-adjusts his shirt where Dean's pulled it askew, and waits for Dean to put the puzzle pieces together.

But Dean's slow on the uptake. "I'm not a whore," he informs Castiel reproachfully.

"No, you're not," Castiel says. "You're a porn star."

Dean sits back. It settles into his system slowly -- the words, things thrown around casually, and the concept that it could be real, could be him -- and then, slowly, the substance of just what it is they're even talking about.

"You -- you do  porn ?" he asks, and he probably sounds like he's asking if Castiel is really an alien from another planet.

"I work for a really reputable company," Castiel says evenly. "They run a website called Collegeangels.com. It's a very particular business model. Each performer has his own webcam and chat room, and people pay to participate in live webcasts and chats. It's like being paid to have your own TV show, basically. You have to cultivate your own following, but once you have people who want to visit your site, it's very lucrative. And there's a signing bonus to bring new talent aboard, but frankly, there aren't many people here who would satisfy their criteria. They're very strict about who they bring on."

"But I would?" Dean is having trouble fitting his brain around how businesslike Castiel's being about this. 

Castiel smiles. "Oh, yes. At the very least, you're undeniably gay."

"I'm--" Dean has a protest at the ready, but it chokes in the face of Castiel's bright blue eyes. The guy can see Dean better than Dean himself, that's been clear since the moment they met. Dean just doesn't get interested in girls. Not the way he's interested in Castiel.

And Sam.

"I'm--" He sighs and tries to gather his thoughts. "I'm not experienced."

"That's a good thing." Castiel's smile is gone, and he's all business now, all somber sales pitch. "Innocence plays very well for the camera. Frankly, most of the others are too cavalier about sex by this point. Myself included. I've had my share of meaningless encounters for the cameras, and they're fun, but new blood is how the industry stays alive."

"So you do this with other people, then. Not just you alone in your bedroom in front of a webcam."

Castiel nods. "I try to have guests often enough."

"Guests. Huh." It seems a weird word for someone you sleep with, but Dean's new at this. He takes a deep breath. "So we wouldn't be doing this -- only with each other."

"Does that disappoint you?" Castiel cocks his head. 

Dean has to tilt his own head; Castiel looking at him at the forty-five degree angle is pretty disconcerting. "No. Actually, it's a relief. I don't really want to have to--"

To tell you about Sam , he thinks.

"To be exclusive? No, once you're signed up you'll have a camera in your own room, and you can invite anyone else who's a member of the program. There's a whole list of local boys. You'll get to know them."

Dean's starting to be seriously convinced. Did he think this wouldn't distract him enough? A long list of guys to invite over and get with is the perfect distraction. And Castiel as No. 1 on the list? And  money ? He won't have time to think about Sam. And by the end, he'll have enough experience that Sam will seem like a sad dream from a lonely time.

"Don't get me wrong," he says, leaning over and squeezing Castiel's knee, "I think you are really, really hot."

"Then that's all that matters." Castiel's eyes flash with excitement. "Dean, your eyes -- your body -- I knew I had to get you on the site. It had to happen."

"So do we have to test for STDs?" Now he's talking like he's already signed up, but who is he kidding himself? He is. He's sold. 

"Of course. Every three months, and if you have a partner outside of the site, you have to test before you can do anything with a program member. Everyone on the site is clean. Testing's unpleasant, but..."

"I'm a virgin," Dean blurts out.

Castiel blinks. Dean can see him fighting to keep a smile suppressed. "Really?"

"Really." Dean doesn't bother holding back the smile. "I haven't even been with a girl. You better be gentle."

"Of course." Castiel bites his lip. Literally chomping at the bit, Dean thinks.

He winks. "Not  too gentle, though."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Dean and Sam have always been a little too close, and Dean knows it's wrong -- so he heads to college, hoping that he'll meet someone there who will keep his mind off his little brother. He meets Castiel, who has a business proposal for him --- join Cas in bed, and online, for live webcam site CollegeAngels.com. Through Castiel, Dean learns about sex, kink, and freedom, and he finally feels pride instead of shame for who he is. But then Sam gets accepted to the same school, and he wants to live with Dean...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/profile)[**obstinatrix***](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/) for an amazing beta and [](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/)**dazedrose** for panty-melting art!

Chapter 2

Castiel's room is bare, spartan but for the setup in front of the computer, which includes a webcam and what Castiel calls an area mike, as well as some fancy looking lights. Castiel switches them on, and Dean has to hide his eyes briefly to keep from getting blinded. He looks around the newly illuminated surroundings. Nothing special. Some local sports memorabilia, but from what Dean knows of Castiel, that's just set decoration. He doesn't seem like the type that would honestly follow sports, but it fits the college-boy image that his customers have got to love. And Dean finds Castiel's all-business approach so damn sexy.

"Are you ready?" Castiel asks, catching his gaze under the lights.

Dean wants to lean in and kiss him. But better to let the tension build. He grins. " _So_ ready."

"Then have a seat on the bed. I'm gonna ask you some questions and then we'll get started."

Castiel's eyes on him are a steady pressure, and Dean's skin tingles as he takes his seat on the foot of the bed, squints into the lights and follows Castiel's direction to relax and try to look at the red light in the center of the webcam rather than the brighter lamps above. Castiel strikes a few keys and slides to the side, and the red light blinks three times before settling into a steady glare. Dean looks at it, glancing every few seconds at Castiel and feeling the charge of his gaze strike him like a match.

"Tell us about yourself," Castiel says.

Dean shifts on the bed. "My name's Dean. I'm 20, and this is, um, my first video."

"Just your first video?"

"My first time." Dean imagines the guys who might be watching, leaning in toward their monitors at the notion. He gives a sloppy grin. "Ever."

"So you're going to let me deflower you for the cameras?"

Dean swallows hard. "Y-yeah. That's the plan."

"How come?"

"That's a good question." Dean looks to Castiel for a hint; what he gets is a cool, gaze. There's no help in that gaze, but there's confidence. Castiel's sure whatever Dean says will be the right thing, so Dean might as well believe in himself. He starts to speak before he even really knows what he's going to say. "It seems like fun. And I like you, and I want to see how it looks when we're done. I bet... I bet it's going to be gorgeous."

The light in Castiel's eyes tells him he's said the right thing.

"Good. Take off your shirt, Dean."

Dean nods and, gazing at the camera evenly, pulls at the back of his collar until his T-shirt comes off in a single movement. Half-naked before the world, he licks his lips and gives a shy smile.

"You're really gorgeous."

"Thanks." Color dots Dean's cheeks.

"You ready to get naked for me?"

"Yeah." Dean has to fight to keep the word from becoming a growl. Castiel's even questions are charging him up, and he's getting hard in his shorts.

"Go ahead and take off your shorts, then. You wearing boxers or briefs?"

"Boxer briefs," Dean says with a hint of a triumphant laugh.

"Go on and show us, then."

Dean eases up onto the bed and slides his shorts over his ass, then down his thighs. He imagines that he's meeting the eyes of some stranger half a world away, through the magic of the webcam, and the idea that someone's locking gazes with him, unseen, makes his skin prickle. He really, really loves the idea that his body is turning a million strangers on.

"Oh, wow."

Castiel's voice has dropped half an octave. Dean feels it in his balls. "What?" he asks, forgetting the camera for a second. His eyes fly to Castiel's.

"You're, uh..." Castiel lets out a short laugh. "You're hard."

"'Course I'm hard," Dean murmurs. "I'm getting naked for you and you're about to fuck me for the first time in front of a live webcam. I'm so fucking excited I can't stand it."

Castiel's eyes are boring into his. "So am I," he murmurs, and Dean believes it.

The boxer briefs come off in a rush, and Dean's naked, his cock hard and bobbing gently between his legs. He stares at Castiel, begging silently for the next instruction. But Castiel's forgotten how to speak, staring at him mutely, and Dean finds he's holding his breath. He lets it out, slow and shaky, and takes a wild guess at the next step. He lowers one hand, curls it around his cock, and draws it upward slow and sure, fingers closing around the head and caressing there. Pleasure like a wash of warm water rolls up his spine, and he gasps.

In another moment, Castiel has risen from the desk where he's been sitting. He comes to Dean in a single movement, sitting next to him, and Dean's only dimly aware of the webcam's light in his peripheral vision as he turns in to meet the kiss that Castiel offers. All at once there's nothing but Cas, the soft touch of his lips and the feathering of his fingertips against Dean's jaw and neck. Dean's heart beats in his throat. He hears himself groan, reaches under Castiel's shirt and hikes it up. This is the part that Cas made him wait for, the slide of chest against chest, and he can't possibly wait a single second more. They clasp together, arms winding around each other, and Dean feels like he's part of a generator, emitting brilliant heat and energy for each second he and Castiel touch.

"Follow my lead," Castiel whispers in his ear, too soft for the microphone to pick up. His hand drops, and he massages Dean's cock, stroking it with a sure grip. Dean tenses, gasps, and whispers a soft _fuck_ as Castiel's hand bleeds warmth into his skin. His eyes meet Castiel's, and he gets an encouraging nod.

He reaches down, touches Castiel's cock through his pants. Castiel moans and kisses him again, biting at his lower lip and pulling savagely. OK, yeah, that was the right thing to do. Smiling slightly, Dean grinds the heel of his hand down, then slides his palm against the hard column. Castiel sucks in air through his teeth. His own fingers go slack on Dean's cock, but that only feels like more encouragement. Dean's touching him so well, Castiel's forgotten to reciprocate. Power jolts his nerves, and Dean strokes him more vigorously, looking down to see him harden and lengthen beneath Dean's hand. _Oh, God_ , he thinks with a jolt of nerves, _he's so big_. He wavers momentarily, unsure whether to be excited or terrified.

In the moment of indecision, Castiel reaches down and moves Dean's hand up to the button of his slacks. "Get me naked," he hisses, and that's a command Dean can't wait to obey.

The slacks come off in a whoosh of fabric, and Dean's left salivating, staring uselessly as the webcam records on and he's sure whoever's watching gets dead bored. But it's all he can do, he has to just look, because Cas's cock is huge and mouth-watering and Dean can't breathe right, much less move or do anything titillating for an audience.

Castiel lets him look, reaching out and petting him with a soft hand. After a long minute, he says, "Do you want to suck it?" And his tone's so unassuming, like he's asking a child if he wants some candy. Dean's erection is throbbing and he doesn't understand how Cas can be so calm. He nods, mouth watering and hands shaking as he eases himself down onto the floor in front of the bed.

"Here," Castiel says, and edges to the side instead. "Let the people see your pretty lips."

He nods at the camera, and Dean looks over his shoulder and gives the webcam a grin. He's gonna suck that huge cock and people are gonna see it, gonna watch him do it. The thrill is unmistakeable. He moves, still on his knees, over to the side and lingers in profile, letting his lips ghost over the tip and enjoying the build-up. Castiel makes a high-pitched, wanting noise in the back of his throat. His hand comes down to ruffle Dean's hair again. Dean's knees wobble beneath him.

Cas's cock slips between his lips and for an instant he's transported. He's thinking of Sam, imagining the soft whine that would come from Sam's throat if he were to do this, imagining the firmness of his brother's cock in his mouth and the sweet acceptance of Sam's body submitting beneath him--

\--no. No, not now. Now he's with Cas. Now he's celebrating being open, enjoying sex, not having to hide from anyone. And one glance up at Cas and Dean knows it's OK. He's allowed to think about others. They're not committed, this isn't a relationship. This is fun and profit. And looking at Cas's eyes, seeing the understanding deep, deep in the blueness of them, Dean relaxes. Cas understands.

And Cas is pretty fucking sexy in his own right.

Dean closes his eyes, groans deep, and widens the part of his lips. The ridge of Cas's cock slides in a bump over his tongue, and then he's full, oh God so full, his mouth taking in flesh that's thick and deep and wide and hot. His nostrils flare as he inhales a scent he's not used to, something dark and musky. It's wonderful. His hard palate spasms, but he fights, it, taking Cas in to the root, inhaling and sucking hard, then letting go for a moment as his jaw complains and he works up the strength to go deep again. Doesn't take long for him to work up a rhythm, going in and sucking hard, listening to the crest of Castiel's groan, then pulling off again for sweet, shallow licks and sucks of lips against his cockhead. Takes a little longer for him to realize he's groaning, too. He listens to the music of it and his balls feel so heavy and loaded he thinks he's gonna lose it right then.

"Dean, oh, God, wait, stop," Cas half-whispers, and Dean looks up. His reflection in Cas's eyes is wide-eyed, his lips pursed forward as though swollen from too much sucking, and he's momentarily fascinated with himself. Has he ever looked this single-minded? How must it reflect on the computer screen?

"Ease off," Castiel says. His voice is guttural, half-wrecked. "You'll make me come like this. I still want to fuck you."

"Oh... okay," Dean whispers. It's a miracle his vocal cords are still working.

Castiel leans forward and kisses him, and Dean surges up against him, pushing their bodies together. Fully naked, body to body, they slide with the slick lubrication of sweat so easily onto each other, roll on the bed, limbs tangling, voices raised in uncontrolled groans. Dean feels like so much man, listening to his voice, feeling his cock rub against Castiel's stomach, feeling Castiel's thighs and calves pressing hard between his legs. He doesn't know exactly what he's doing, but he can't stop.

"On your hands and knees," Castiel whispers into his ear between kisses. "Ass for the camera. Make lots of noise when I open you up."

Castiel seriously gives him the _easiest_ commands to obey.

Dean has tried to twist his own fingers inside him, but Castiel's fingers, thick and lube-slick, are like nothing he could have prepared for. He hitches up, pressing them against the walls of his ass toward his prostate, at the first thrust in; by the third or fourth they've found a rhythm, Castiel fingering him in hard, upward jabs that make Dean groan and plead for more. "You feel so fucking good in my ass," he gasps out in an excited moment, and Castiel withdraws, makes Dean whimper, and asks in a guttural voice if Dean would like to feel Castiel's dick inside him instead of just his fingers.

The noises Dean makes are incoherent and probably embarrassing. It takes a full five seconds for them to resolve into a string of "yes fuck yes."

He's turned to the side again. profile to the camera, and Castiel actually goes to the computer and picks the webcam up, drawing it close to take a long scan of Dean's naked, wanting body. Dean quivers, begs in a soft, whining voice, and thrills to the thought of who might be watching, examining every pore of his skin and reveling in this shameless exposure. Nobody could revel in it more than Dean himself. He's been waiting his whole life to be this open about who and what he likes.

And then Castiel's inside him and Dean's whole world is narrowed down to intense, insane fullness.

"Oh God so big," he gasps, fists tightening and loosening spasmodically in the sheets. "Too fucking big, Cas, I can't--"

"Just breathe," Castiel coaches him, one hand on his stomach trying to calm him.

"I can't, I can't, too much, fuck."

"Breathe."

Dean takes in a breath, lets it out, shuddering.

"One more time."

Dean obeys. The fullness is still overwhelming, but it's almost manageable now, and a low tingle is starting to spread from the base of his ass forward to his scrotum. It's warm, so fucking warm, but he's so full --

"Keep breathing, Dean."

The words rumble low through Castiel's stomach and chest into Dean's back. They vibrate through him like a mantra, and now Dean's got it. Now he can handle it. Stretched apart, filled, with that intense tingle starting to spread through his thighs and up into the desperate hard jut of his wanting cock.

"It's good," he murmurs with a grunt. "Good, Cas."

"What's good?" A hand lightly swats his ass, prompting him.

"Your-- your dick," Dean says.

"Louder."

Dean takes in another breath. "Your dick," he repeats. "Your-- your fucking dick inside my--" oh, he's got an idea now-- "inside my virgin ass, it feels so good."

"You want me to fuck your ass, Dean?"

Oh, _shit_. The tingling erupts into full-blown ribbons of sensation, spiraling down through his legs, curling his toes, filling his stomach with sweet blooming warmth. "Yeah," he says, breathing shallowly. "Yeah, I fucking need you to-- to fuck my ass, Cas. C'mon. Fuck it good."

"Dean." And for the first time, Castiel's voice sounds kind of wrecked, too. "You are so hot."

Dean just whimpers and pushes back, ass lifting around the solid intrusion of Castiel's cock.

It does the trick. Cas grunts hard and pulls out momentarily, just long enough to hitch his hips forward and push back in. Deans dick throbs and from his lips flies an "oh, fuck!" that fills the room. Another thrust in, Castiel's cock hitting something impossibly sensitive,and Dean's thighs clench and relax desperately, trying to force contact that won't happen. And he realizes, in the next few thrusts, that he doesn't need it -- he's running on a euphoric wave of sensation as strong as any physical touch, and just having Cas penetrating him this deeply is gonna send him right over the edge into orgasm. Hell, he's going to have to hold back.

"Damn," Castiel half-mutters, behind him. "Dean. You're -- you're incredible." Hands plaster over his ass, grab his hips, pull hard, lift away. One set of fingers rakes up his spine with a bright zip of scratching nails.

Somewhere, Dean thinks vaguely with each pant and grunt, someone is watching this. Someone with his hand tucked into his pants, curled around his dick. Watching them fuck, having no other reaction than lust and appreciation. Not just thinking it's okay, what they're doing. Thinking it's great. Getting off on it. And who the hell wouldn't? It feels amazing.

They’re moving like a machine, a wheel and a piston, Dean churning with each deep thrust forward Castiel gives him, and then the two of them are rocking together, building up momentum as their cries layer over each other, and then somewhere in the midst of it all Castiel saying he's close, and Dean already knows, he can feel it because of the sudden swell and bulge inside him, the tightening of the balls that slap again and again against his ass--

He starts to scream, his voice catches, he swallows and takes a breath and starts again. The cry sears the air, resounds in his eardrums. Inside him. Castiel is unmoving but his cock is throbbing pulsing, releasing bright heat into him. Dean's shaking, coming apart, spurting hot over the bedclothes. Lightning flashes inside his eyelids. His body locks up.

"Oh, oh, God! Cas!" Another desperate shout as the rest of his orgasm washes through like the tail of a comet, weaker but lingering, jarring.

Castiel's pulled out, and he grabs the camera from where it's been sitting just on the edge of the bed. Dean looks over his shoulder, sees Cas sliding it down Dean's body, to the gaping opening of his ass. He can feel Cas's come dribbling out of him, sliding down his inner thigh. He wishes he had the view the camera had. His cock blurts out another last bit of come, an afterthought, but it makes him shake hard. Castiel taps his cock against the curve of Dean's ass, surely depositing the rest of his own come on Dean's skin. Dean gives a soft, defeated noise, slumps forward, and wraps his arms around his head to prop it up. He wants to just melt into the mattress. He's melted completely.

Oh, he _likes_ sex. He's gonna be doing a lot of it. That's for damn sure.

Castiel slides off the bed, sets the webcam up on the desk where it'd sat earlier, and returns to the bed. "How was your first time, Dean?" he asks.

Dean rolls his head to one side, gives the camera a blinding smile. "Amazing," he says. "So good."

"Did you like sharing it with the world?"

"Oh, God, yes." He sounds breathless and wrecked, and it cracks him up,

"Want to come back tomorrow and see what the video looks like?"

Dean rolls onto his side and frowns. "Do we have to wait till tomorrow?"

"We could watch it now," Castiel admits with a half-smile, "but wouldn't you like to be ready for another round, in case watching yourself turns you on?"

"Oh." The image rolls through Dean's head all at once. "Oh, _yeah_." He shivers.

Castiel turns to the camera. "Then we'll see you tomorrow night. Good night." And he reaches over and shuts it off.

Dean groans, rolls over, and falls immediately asleep.

 

 

When he wakes up, it's late the following morning. The sun is bright and high in the sky, albeit dimmed by Castiel's blinds. Dean's alone on the bed. Castiel sits on a chair near the window, wordless and expressionless , watching him.

Dean bolts up. "Whoa," he says, "freak me out, why don't you?"

"Were you having a good dream?" Castiel seems strangely happy, though he's not smiling. There's an energy flowing off him, an air of buzzing excitement that seems to surround him.

"That's personal." Dean checks himself. He is kind of taking up the poor guy's bed. "Did you get to sleep?"

"I don't need much sleep," Castiel says. He rises and stretches. Several of his joints pop, and Dean feels guilty. Maybe the poor guy tried to sleep in that chair and didn't get a chance. "Besides, I spent most of the night going back through the chat logs."

"The what?" Dean sits up, looks at the sheets under him. Most of the come has dried into a tacky mess. "Oh, shit. I'll clean--"

"Don't even worry about it." Castiel eases down into his computer chair. He's wearing a T-shirt and boxers, and Dean's momentarily lost for words watching him move. What is it about Cas that makes him forget his own name? "I hope you like money, Dean. Something tells me you're about to get a good amount of it. We broke some viewing records last night."

Now Dean's awake. The dollar signs open his eyes pretty wide. "What?"

"You and I made a potent combination," Castiel says. "We had upward of five thousand individual pings last night. For every thousand viewers, CollegeAngels gives a hundred-dollar bonus. Per performer."

"We're -- but that's...." Dean scrambles off the bed and slides in behind Castiel to look at the computer screen. Castiel slides his mouse pointer under the numbers. "Holy crap."

"For reference," Castiel says, "broadcasts usually average three to five hundred viewers."

"Double holy crap." Dean laughs. He wonders if it'd be inappropriate to lay a liplock on Castiel now, just out of celebration. Probably. They've been very clear this is a business relationship. Still, Cas is sexy, and the temptation is there. "So you said there were chat logs?"

"Oh." Castiel looks over his shoulder, his lips twisting as though trying to hold back a torrent of laughter. Dean's heart skips, and he wonders what Cas would sound like just letting loose and laughing. He misses Sam's laugh. Sam would never hold back like this. He'd just let loose and laugh, innocent and joyous as a child, the dimples in his cheeks deepening and his head flying back as mirth overwhelmed him. And now Dean's heart is skipping again, for a different reason, and he doesn't realize for a moment that Castiel has gotten up and is offering him the chair to sit down and look through the logs.

They start with a bunch of general greetings to each other and to Castiel - apparently he has "regulars" - and then, timestamped right when the camera went on, a bunch of confused messages.

_hotdood3958: thats not castiel_   
_moardicks: whos that? guest?_   
_casteabagger: wheres casti_   
_balthazar33: o theres his voice_   
_hotdood3958: NEEDS MOAR CASTI_   
_bisexygurl: hi dean ur hot_   
_misha: hi dean_   
_casteabagger: hi dean <3 <3_   
_balthazar33: virgin FUCK YEA_   
_halo_lover: omg_   
_likmataint: oh shit yea_

From there on it devolves into the text-only equivalent of the audience shouts at a strip club, with lots of "hard now" and "yeah do it" and "suck him." A few times the words "I just cummed" show up on the log, and Dean is not sure why, but he's not terribly skeeved out. It's a turn-on to know he has inspired ejaculations that stained someone else's sheets and not just Cas's.

By the end of the log, the number of usernames has skyrocketed, and most of the chat is inviting Dean to come back to the webcast.

_casteabagger: dean get ur own chat soon_   
_bagofdicks: i cummed twice, good job guys_   
_holygloryhole67: yea cum back soon dean_   
_misha: im comin back 2 this chat, way 2 go guys_   
_bisexygurl: yea awesome job, will come back tomorrow_   
_casteabagger: <3 <3 dean <3 <3 casti <3 <3_

"Wow," Dean says, sitting back in the chair. "That's something else."

"Isn't it?" Castiel drops a hand onto his shoulder, and heat drops into Dean's gut. "Will you come back tonight, Dean? We can watch the video, and let things go where they will."

Fuck tonight, Dean wants to jump up from the chair and cover Castiel with kisses right now. Despite the yawning hunger starting to burn at his stomach, and the sudden memory of all the schoolwork he has yet to do, he's feverish with lust again. But he holds it in. He can wait for the time to be right. "You better believe I will," he murmurs, and Castiel squeezes his shoulder in gratitude.

Something amazing is happening here, Dean thinks. The only way it could be better is if it were with Sam.

 

 

 

  
_November 3_

"Hi guys, I'm back," says Dean to the screen, waving. Behind him on the bed, Castiel smiles. The chat room lights with greetings to the two of them. "I had such a good time yesterday. Looking forward to see how it came out on the video. So while Cas and I are watching that, you guys can watch us."

"Cas?" Castiel crawls up the bed and wraps his arms around Dean's stomach. "Most of them call me Casti, or Cassi."

"Makes you sound like a girl," Dean says. "And based on last night, I'd say you're all man."

Castiel chuckles and kisses his neck. "Dean has spoken," he says. "As of now, I'm officially Cas."

"One S," Dean says. "Two S's and it's a girl's name again."

"One S," Castiel says soberly, nodding. He clicks the video window, and the screen fills with the picture of Dean and Cas kissing, Dean lifting Cas's shirt up, and Dean gasping as Cas takes hold of his cock and massages.

"Oh, fuck," Dean breathes, mesmerized. The Dean on the screen says something very similar.

As the video goes on, and the sounds of Dean and Cas gasping and moaning fill the room, Castiel lifts Dean's shirt off, works him out of his pants and slides to the floor to suck his cock. Dean throws his head back, braces himself against the bed with his elbows, and echoes the desperate noises coming from the speakers. "Fuck, Cas, fuck, so good."

"Love the way we sound together," Castiel murmurs in his low voice. "Can't wait to fuck you again, Dean."

"Do it." Dean's on the edge of coming into Cas's mouth already. "Do it now, Cas, before I lose it."

"Oh, I think you can get hard again," Cas says. Dean groans, hands fisting in Cas's hair, trying to pull his mouth back onto Dean's dick even as he says that's not what he wants. Then the Dean on the screen says "your fucking dick inside my virgin ass," and it's too much. Dean throws back his head and comes all over Castiel's upturned face. He collapses on the bed, still making wrecked sounds and spurting on his own stomach as Castiel turns to the camera to show the viewing audience just how covered in Dean's come he is.

And sure enough, when Castiel climbs on top of Dean to ride him, Dean manages to get hard again.

_November 15_

_balthazar33: ok we saw Cas riding Dean how bout Dean riding Cas_

"The man has spoken," Dean says, grinning and climbing onto Castiel's lap. He gets lost in Castiel's kisses these days, loves each long luxurious movement of their lips and tongues together, and sometimes he needs to be reminded that they need to fuck and not just make out all night long on the camera.

The protrusion of Castiel's cock against his ass is a good reminder, and Dean moans, raising onto his knees long enough to pull down his pants. He opens himself up impatiently, then sinks down onto Castiel's cock with abandon. "Oh, God," he hisses, "so fucking full like this, gotta do this more."

"Yeah," Cas murmurs, hands moving in small, seductive circles on Dean's hip, "We'll do everything, Dean, as much as you want."

Dean stills, staring at him. Castiel looks back, and a wash of emotion slides off Dean. He realizes that he hasn't thought of Sam all night long, and that feels like a betrayal somehow. But Castiel's hands slowly seduce him back into the real world, and he starts to move, lost in the delicious heady warmth of Cas in him and all around him. Soon he's riding Cas hard and crying out, completely in the moment.

They laugh the next day when they go over the chat log and find several exhortations to _stop staring at each other and fuck already!_

_December 8_

_bisexygurl: Wanna see if Dean can make Cas come just by rimming him..._

"Cas can come if you look at him funny," Dean responds sarcastically to the camera.

"Oh, God, yes!" Castiel deadpans, and falls onto the bed as though spent. His humor isn't usually that physical, and Dean suspects with a swell of pride that he's had some influence on him.

"Stay right there," Dean says, licking his lips. He works his hands under Cas's prone form, flips him over onto his stomach, and pulls down his sweats. "OK, dude, I don't care if you come or not, but that ass needs to get eaten."

Castiel makes a strangled noise into the pillow that Dean suspects is not entirely for the audience's benefit. Sure enough, when Castiel rocks back onto his knees, lifting his ass to where Dean can lean down and lick it, he's hard already. Dean chuckles and starts laying teasing kisses on those round, muscular cheeks.

Not only does Cas come from it, but when he mutters "spear it, Dean, spear my ass with that hot tongue," Dean humps the air desperately and spills, untouched, all over Castiel's sheets. He really is causing Castiel to have to launder his sheets so much more often these days. Which is nice for the nights they just lie together, not fucking, just enjoying the closeness of strong bodies together.

Oh, yeah, they've started doing that. All without dating. All with the understanding that whenever Dean's not there, Cas may very well be inviting some other local guys up for a fuck. They don't talk about it. Just like they don't talk about the guy Dean's still hung up on, the guy Dean still dreams about when he wakes up shouting "Sammy, no," with a painful erection and shame painted all over his face in the dim light. Castiel doesn't ask, just soothes him back to restfulness. That's their agreement. It works for them.

_January 30_

"So tonight we're gonna fuck facing the screen so you can give us instructions as we go. We'll do as much as we can."

It turns out to be a little more difficult than they thought. For one thing, the exhortations to _tie him up, hold him down, bite him_ come way too quickly to do much more than glance before their eyes. For another thing, they all contradict each other. It's like playing darts, trying to pick one out of the neverending stream of commands, and after a while, after Dean's been tied up and licked all over and Cas has been bitten and manhandled, they both collapse into laughter and look at the screen, saying in unison, "OK, our turn," and wrapping around each other for an enthusiastic round of lap-fucking that might ignore their fans' wishes, but feels too good for them to care.

_February 7_

"Today is Dean's orgasm denial challenge," Castiel says to the camera. "What do you think I can do with Dean before he can't help but come?"

"Bring it," Dean snarls, biting at Castiel's shoulder. "I'm solid as a rock."

"You're also hard as one," Castiel notes snidely, eyes darting down. "Taking suggestions now... the fun begins in just a few minutes."

Dean's handcuffed -- boy, this crowd sure likes to see him in restraints -- and Castiel begins slowly, massaging his feet and kissing at his thighs before crawling up and slowly sucking one ball, then the other, into his mouth. He's insanely wet and hot and perfect, and the suction might just kill Dean; he grits his teeth and gasps and grunts, tossing his head back and forth, but he's still a long way from coming. He can still hold out.

And even the bites and scratches don't make him break, even the seductive wetness of Castiel's mouth on his isn't enough to take him to the edge. What gets him, finally, is when Castiel, jacking him off patiently, lowers his mouth to one nipple and lifts his free hand to tweak the other. The suckling, the bright lightning bursts of sensation, make Dean groan with abandon, and abruptly, out of nowhere,he has a vision of Castiel sucking on that one nipple while Sam takes the other into his mouth.

Sam's hands, hot on his body, wrapped around his cock.

Castiel with him, doing all the wicked things he knows from long experience how to do.

"Don't come," Castiel warns, and Dean bites his tongue and makes a long strangled sound and tries to hold it back.

"Shit, S..." and it's almost on his tongue, almost _Sammy,_ and the only way he can hold it back there is to let go on the other end. He comes spectacularly, a white flash of intense light flying through him, and his hips shudder and pump up and down, pushing his still-pulsing cock into Cas's stomach, letting little droplets fly over his chest and Dean's own stomach and even at the camera, where one sticks and creates a white blob in the corner of the screen. Dean can see it out of the corner of his eye, and he means to tell Cas to wipe it off, but right now he's too busy dying.

He kept it safe, though. His secret.

 

 

"You were thinking about him, weren't you?" Castiel teases afterward, when the cameras are shut off and the two of them are well and truly alone. "This guy you've been holding a torch for all these months. I could see it in your eyes. You went somewhere inside your own head, and you couldn't hold back anymore."

Dean rolls his eyes, but he doesn't speak; he can't lie to Cas, never has, and the great thing about Cas is that until now, he's barely ever asked the questions he knows Dean doesn't want to give answers to. He's a good friend like that. A great friend.

The best, actually. And the fact that they have incredible sex several nights a week in every conceivable way doesn't seem to detract from that.

And Dean's wondered, from time to time, if they could be more than friends. If they could take this crazy dirty thing they do together and add it to their friendship and turn it into a real relationship. But Castiel has always been very explicit that sex doesn't mean romance, and that Dean is free to sleep with other guys within the CollegeAngels network and even to pursue romantic relationships, so long as it's done safely. Hell, Cas has lectured him about the importance of being honest with his romantic prospects before any intimacy. (That's the word he used. Intimacy. He's as clinical about relationships as he's straightforward about sex.)

And he's dropped hints, though Dean doesn't know for certain, about having other "guest stars" in his room with him. Left the door open, so to speak. There's no telling how many other guys Cas has fucked or been fucked by since he and Dean started being "co-stars.' And Dean's tried not to think about it. Because when he thinks about it, he either gets a twinge of jealousy or self-recrimination that he hasn't slept with a single, solitary guy other than Cas. He hasn't even set up the webcam software they sent him when he signed up with the site. It's sitting in a plain cardboard box in the corner of his dorm room.

"None of your business," he tells Castiel sharply, and Castiel puts up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm sorry to invade your privacy," he says.

Dean can't stay mad at him. "Nah, it's okay," he says. "Just hate myself for still caring, you know? When it's so wrong."

"How you feel isn't wrong," Castiel says. "It may not be requited, but that doesn't make it wrong."

"And since when are you Mr. In-Touch-With-Your-Feelings?" Dean says with a grin, shoving him. "You gonna let me sleep here tonight or should I head home? Don't want to screw you up if you've got to study.

Castiel shrugs and smiles almost shyly at him. "You can stay," he says. "I like it when you're here. It calms me."

"When it's not turning you on, you mean."

"There is that." Castiel gets up, walks across the room (still naked, which Dean appreciates) and reaches for a clean pair of pants. "I might have to run down to the store to get some snacks. It'll be a late night for me."

"Cool."

Castiel lobs him an easy smile. "Apple pie?"

"Very cool." Dean sprawls out on the bed. "You mind if I check my messages from your phone?" Their college still hooks them up with old-fashioned land lines, and it's the only way to get messages from professors and other official bulletins, so Dean's in the habit of giving it out as his phone number. He's not huge into texting, anyway,

He gets the nod and the okay from Cas, who turns around in the doorway on his way out and says, "Incidentally, Dean..."

"Hm?" Dean lifts his head from the pillow where he's sprawled.

"I was thinking about next year." There's uncertainty on Castiel's face. "We'll have to begin the selection process fairly soon. I thought we should consider living together. It might be efficient."

Dean's heart leaps and sinks all at once, and he wonders where the hell the roller-coaster came from. Cas is right -- it would be efficient, considering Dean's here half the time anyway. And Dean's considered, or at least idly fantasized about, the prospect of rooming with him. You can't get a much better roommate than Cas. He's neat, he's quiet, and he's always up for a quickie. The ultimate friend with benefits. It should be heaven.

But there's a part of Dean that's dismayed at the way Castiel was quick to point out efficiency as the reason for the move. And he doesn't like the idea of having to watch Cas get it on with someone else, or be sexiled from his own rooms. Cas's other partners have been outside his field of perception until now. He never sees traces of them, never hears Castiel talk about them. The two of them living together would change that And Dean wouldn't be able to shut out the niggling sense of dissatisfaction he feels whenever he thinks of the concept that Cas might not think he's ...

Enough? What the hell is he going on about? When he is still, to this day, fucking Cas and thinking about Sam to get off?

He groans and pulls a pillow over his head. Feelings are _complicated_.

Cas is long gone to the store to pick up Pringles (his snack of choice) and apple pie for Dean, and Dean finally takes the pillow off his head and heaves a sigh into the empty bedroom. He'd better check his messages before Cas gets back. Sliding off the bed, he grabs a pair of boxers and slips into them, then makes it to the phone. Dialing the magic number, he cradles the receiver between ear and shoulder and listens as the message begins to play.

_Dean. Dean! I got in! Early admission. I'll be coming there in September, and we can finally live together!_

Sam's voice. Dean swallows the huge lump that's found its way into his throat. Oh, God. He's totally screwed.

 

 

Dean doesn't stay for the apple pie; he heads home, needing to be alone, needing to process this information. A moment ago he was elated that Castiel had asked him to be roommates. Elated, and scared. And now he has Sam coming -- coming here -- in the fall, and _he_ wants to room, and Dean is equal parts excited and scared about that, too. It's as though he's been thrown onto the horns of a nasty creature -- everything hurts, and as much as he can't shake himself free he's finding himself grotesquely fascinated by the possibilities. So much that could happen.

He knows, of course, that he shouldn't do anything with Sam. But that was easier back when he didn't do anything with anybody. Now that he's been with another guy in almost every way possible, he doesn't think he'll have the same self-control. Not when he knows how good it feels to kiss, to ride and be ridden, to eat a guy out or to have your balls sucked until your toes curl. How can he even look at Sam in his space, with those expectant eyes, and not think of all the delicious fantasies that he's carried within himself in this safe, far-away place?

He should have gone to school in Alaska. Or Indonesia. Or Mars.

Dean barely gets sleep that night, and the next day he's too distracted to pay attention in his classes. Except for literature, in which he's asked a question about Oedipus Rex and blushes so hard he thinks his face is going to burst into flame. He keeps his head down the rest of the day, waves off an invitation to hang out with his buddies, and when his cell rings and it's Castiel's number on the screen, he ignores it.

He needs to call Sam back. Congratulate him, talk to him. The lack of a call back is hanging over his head like a frigging anvil. God knows what Sam's doing right now. Agonizing, probably, that his big brother hasn't called him. And though they've talked once every few weeks, Dean's done a lot of avoiding calling Sam over the past year. His parents have got to be pleased with that. Calls from Mom and Dad usually happen when Sam's out of the house, and Dean doesn't think for a minute that's by accident. They're still worried.

And they should be. Because Dean's still burning up thinking about Sam close by, in his arms, in his bed.

He's on his fourteenth game of Bejeweled, staring angrily at the screen determined to make matches of three, when there's a knock on the door. It jolts him hard, and the match he was racing to make slips away behind the timer's buzz of 0:00. He wants to punch the screen. Instead, he gets up and answers the door.

Castiel is standing there with a package of convenience-store apple pie.

"I saved it for you," he says.

Dean sighs, defeated, and lets him in.

Castiel hasn't been in his room much, and Dean weighs the impact of having him there. It's good, natural and comfortable, the way he's so afraid Sam won't be. The answer should be right there in front of him with that revelation, but it's just not. Everything's so complicated now. And here Castiel is, sitting on the foot of his bed cross-legged, waiting for Dean to spill the beans about what made him take off the other night. He hasn't said as much, but why else would he come all the way here?

"Here's the thing," Dean says. "You know how I told you there was a guy?"

"You never told me," Castiel corrects him. "I surmised."

Dean waves a hand. "Whatever. The point is, he's coming here. Next year. And he wants, he asked..." He reddens. "He asked to be roommates."

"Oh." Castiel nods. "Oh, I see. That could be a very uncomfortable situation."

"Exactly." Vindicated, Dean takes a hearty bite of the apple pie. It's all grease and corn starch crap they create in test tubes, but it's pleasant and filling in his mouth and throat, and he swallows it with gusto. "What am I supposed to say to him?"

"I take it he doesn't know how you feel about him."

Dean takes another bite, trying not to answer.

But Castiel's been around him too often and knows him too well. His eyes widen. "He knows? And he still asked you?" Dean shrugs and chews, avoiding Castiel's gaze. "Dean, have you considered the possibility that he returns your feelings?"

Dean swallows hard and turns to toss the wrapper into the wastebasket. He misses it by a mile, and the wrapper sits crumpled-up in the corner. "That's just it, Cas," he says, staring hard at the bit of paper and plastic as though he could disintegrate it with his eyes. "He does. I know he does. And that's the point."

"What's the point?" Castiel presses forward, rising onto his still-folded knees and lowering his forearms to the bed. With Cas in that position, Dean can only think of a million times he's been behind him, been underneath him like that. And it's ginning up his lust again, adding to the maelstrom of feelings whirling in his gut.

He groans and presses a hand to his forehead. "This is bad, Cas," he mumbles. "This is really bad."

"Why?" Castiel eases forward a little farther. "Why is it bad?"

Dean rubs his temple hard. It just makes his head throb harder. "I can't live with him. I can't live with him and I can't say no to him. Oh, God."

"If you care about him and he feels the same about you, then what's wrong? Why not just be together?" Dean shakes his hand. "Dean, is it because of me? Because of the website? If you need to drop that, I'd rather you be with the person you care about--"

"It's not that," Dean interrupts. "It's not you, Cas. It's him. And me. We can't. I can't--"

"But why--"

"Because he's my brother!"

Castiel goes very still. His mouth opens, then shuts again, but he never takes a breath to speak.

Dean takes in a long breath and dares to look. As he watches, Castiel eases back on the bed, sitting up straight again, and stares at Dean with a furrowed brow. Consternation, surprise, and probably well-hidden disgust... Dean averts his eyes again, because the longer he looks, the longer he sees nothing but condemnation in Castiel's gaze.

"I guess now you know, then," he says with a bitter laugh. "I know, it's sick. It's sick and it's wrong, and I've been fighting it my whole life. That's why I came here, and now... Now Sammy's coming here, and he wants us to be ..."

"So Sam is your brother?"

Dean nods again. He's looking for another word to say, another excuse to make, when Castiel cocks his head and says the two words Dean never expected.

"That's all?"


	3. CollegeAngels.com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Dean and Sam have always been a little too close, and Dean knows it's wrong -- so he heads to college, hoping that he'll meet someone there who will keep his mind off his little brother. He meets Castiel, who has a business proposal for him --- join Cas in bed, and online, for live webcam site CollegeAngels.com. Through Castiel, Dean learns about sex, kink, and freedom, and he finally feels pride instead of shame for who he is. But then Sam gets accepted to the same school, and he wants to live with Dean...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/profile)[**obstinatrix***](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/) for an amazing beta and [](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/)**dazedrose** for panty-melting art!

 

Chapter 3

"That's _all_?"

Dean repeats the question, and even coming from his own mouth he doesn't believe Cas could say it. He doesn't believe anyone could ever say something like that about something like this.

But Castiel is inching forward on the bed, and his face is neutral, almost amused. "That's nothing," he says. "That's not a problem."

"Um, yeah, it is," Dean says. "It's a big problem. It's a felony problem."

"Only while he's under 18," Castiel says. "Has he turned 18 yet, Dean?"

Dean goggles at him. "In... in May," he says. He can't believe he's answering the question. Whatever Cas is thinking, it's gotta be wrong to even entertain any thought that..

..that he and Sam could actually happen? That it might be okay? But Sam has said so too, Sam tried to convince him that the only question was about consent, and the only reason Dean had been able to stay strong then was because he had no one else in his life who agreed...

"So wait," he says, shaking his head as though trying to get the cobwebs out. "Wait a sec, Cas. Are you seriously telling me that it's OK? I mean, I get that you're a depraved porn star and whatever, but _incest_ , dude. Seriously?"

Instead of answering, Castiel gets up. He tugs on the chair where Dean's sitting, urges him up, and swings around onto the chair to take command of Dean's computer.

He logs in to CollegeAngels.com and types "Michael" in the search box.

"Michael and Luc," he says. "They've been on the site for about three years. Exclusively with each other. They've done everything, and they're one of the most popular channels. I've never even come close to their numbers, before you, that is."

As he speaks, the search results fill the screen. The sheer number of videos and forum posts staggers Dean. He peers over Castiel's shoulder, reading line after line.

_Video: Michael rims Luc_   
_Video: Luc in handcuffs_   
_Video: Luc's "revenge"_   
_Forum: So are Michael and Luc really brothers?_   
_Forum: Who's older, Michael or Luc?_   
_Forum: Hottest Michael/Luc vid_   
_Chat: Michael and Luc answer your questions_   
_Article: Michael spills on Luc, sex, love and brotherhood_

Et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseam. Dean's stomach is going for the nauseam, but his heart is flying in his throat.

"Before you ask," Castiel says, "yes, they are truly brothers. I have met Luc once, at a regional meeting. He's... strange. I didn't like him much. But they do draw in viewers, and they're not the only ones out there. If you and your brother love each other, and you know what you're doing, then what you do behind closed doors is nobody's business but yours. Unless..."

"Unl---" Dean chokes on the word. His throat is dry. He clears it, tries again. "Unless what?"

Castiel gives him a furtive glance, then looks away again.

Dean puts a hand on his shoulder. "Unless what, Cas?"

He hasn't seen Castiel blush much, but this time he reddens. Almost imperceptibly, but the tint is there, and he coughs. "Unless you were interested in doing it on camera," he says in a rough voice.

Dean's skin prickles. He hadn't considered... but oh, God, having Sam underneath him, having the video of it to look at, knowing that everyone could see how much he loves and wants his brother... it's like the darkest, most decadent fantasy he can imagine, and from unthinkable it goes to unshakable in a brief moment. That would be amazing. Sam would be amazing. All that skin, the fresh beauty of his face, his hair matted with sweat ...

He's hard now, and he realizes this is the most he's ever allowed himself to openly lust after Sam. He's always slapped the brakes on his own mind, and Castiel has pulled them away with nothing but a few words. Dean wants to feel bad. But all he feels now is want, and heat in his core that he's going to have to get out somehow. He looks down at Cas, suddenly feeling like a heel for thinking it. But he could really use a good fuck now.

Castiel smiles. Small and secretive. And he clicks on one of the links.

A few seconds' wait, and a pair of boys appear, sitting on a couch with their arms around each other. Michael is dark-haired, rakishly handsome; Luc is lean and long-faced, with a brush of stubble and pale green eyes. They lean in, look into each other's eyes for a long time, then kiss, their lips melding together and parting with wet sounds. Luc groans into Michael's mouth. They're both getting hard in their tight, tight jeans.

Dean leans over Castiel's shoulder, starts stroking absently where his hand lies on Cas's collarbone. Castiel doesn't move or make a sound. They both watch, transfixed, as Michael leans back and Luc crawls over him on the couch. One long-fingered hand travels down Michael's side to his hip, then rubs steadily against the hard lump in his jeans. Michael arches up, breathes "Oh, yeah," into the kiss, and hooks one foot around Luc's ankles. Luc grabs the hem of his own shirt and pulls it over his head.

The air fills with the sound of their groans and soft sucks as their lips cover every inch of each other's bodies. It's the most loving video Dean's ever seen; there's real reverence there, body worship in its purest form, and he doesn't doubt for a moment that Michael and Luc are really brothers, because that's just what he'd want to do if the world gave up its morals and he finally got the chance to be with Sam the way he's always wanted. How he'd kiss Sam, how he'd nuzzle his thighs and push his face up into Sam's balls and take every inch of his cock, his mouth eager and watering. It's all reflected in this video, and Dean swallows hard, gulping audibly, as Michael takes Luc's cock in his hand and rubs the two of them together, Luc's bare ass bucking in the air as they grind and cry out. Luc comes for the first time just from that, and he buries a shout in his brother's shoulder. Michael slows down, holds him tight as he shudders through it, and waits until Luc is boneless before getting up from the couch and reaching for the lube on the table in the background.

When the action on the screen slows -- no editing in this video, it's just raw webcam footage -- Dean's hand tightens on Castiel's shoulder. "Cas," he breathes, feeling a little drunk, a little transported.

Castiel rises from the chair, turns around, and pushes his way into Dean's arms.

They're on the bed, half-naked, bitten up with each other's kisses before Dean thinks to stop and say, "You know you're not making any money from this, right? We're not doing this on camera."

"Dean," Castiel groans in response, shoving his sweats to his knees and crawling down the bed.

Dean's own cries echo in his ears, and Michael and Luc have started up again, crying out in desperate, breathless heat on the computer screen. It feels like being in the middle of an orgy, and Dean's beyond turned on at the real sucking sound and feel of Castiel's mouth on his cock, plus the slapping of Michael fucking into Luc at an ever-faster pace. Lust layered on top of lust, sound on sound, the whole world just a prism of incredible feeling. He tingles all over, and he's racing toward an orgasm that's way too quick in coming.

"C'mon, Cas," he manages between hot gulps of air. "Come on up here and fuck me."

Castiel crawls up over him, slides on top of him, and for a long moment he doesn't move, just stares down at Dean. His expression is unfathomable.

"What?" Dean manages to say after a moment of terrified stillness.

"Nothing," Castiel whispers, and silences any further questions with a fierce kiss.

 

 

Everything changes from that night on. A secret hope has lit Dean's heart, and he carries it around with him, a small smile on his face, thinking and dreaming as the days wear on. When he calls Sam to congratulate him, their conversation is as easy as it's always been. They've always been good at not saying what they're really thinking about, and there's no doubt that Mom and Dad are still worried enough to keep monitoring their calls.

That's proven when Mom shoehorns her way onto the phone. "Dean," she says, "you ought to convince your brother to have some roommates. Other than you, I mean."

Dean evades her question. "That's kind of up to him, Mom, don't you think?"

"I just think you two have spent enough time together. You should learn to be your own men."

"We've been apart for a year," Dean points out. "Doesn't Sammy have friends at high school?"

She hems and haws. "Well, sure, he does. But he'll be going into a new social situation..."

"I've got friends at college, too, Mom," he interrupts. "They're dying to meet Sam. And you know Sammy, he'll probably join the math team or something. He's not gonna wanna hang out with me all the time. I wouldn't worry so much."

Good thing about Mom, she's always been pretty persuadable. She lays off. And Dean and Sam keep their distance, relatively speaking, when Dean comes home for the summer vacation. They know what they've got to do to ease their parents' mind. Freedom is so, so close. And they're not going to jeopardize it now.

The trickier part of the dance comes after Sam actually moves in. They've got a different room, albeit in the same building, but Dean's managed to finagle a corner room that doesn't back up on any other rooms - which means it's quiet and removed, and nobody's gonna tromp past on their way to the elevator, et cetera. The only people who make it as far as the door are those who live or are visiting in this room, and that makes everything ideal. Not as ideal as Castiel's apartment, but pretty damn good.

They go to lunch at a local restaurant. Mom and Dad hug Sam too many times and tell him to behave himself. Dad tells Dean to watch out for Sam; Mom gives Dean a glance that means _not too closely, please_. And they pile into the car and head back home, Dean and Sam waving and side-by-side the whole way.

And then they're alone together.

Dean takes a moment to size Sam up. He’s grown a little bulkier in the past year -- he's putting on some muscle, though he's still pretty skinny, and his bangs flop over his face in a way that makes Dean want to hold him down and chop them off. Either that or run his fingers through them and never stop. And he's still got that annoyingly appealing grin. Dean's heart is pounding just looking at him. But Sam's got a whole new world to explore on campus, and living with Dean is just one piece of that dream. He grabs Dean's hands, insists, "You gotta show me everything," and drags Dean on a whirlwind tour of every building on campus, demanding stories, secrets and wisdom on which cafeteria is the best and who throws the best parties, where you can actually study without being disturbed and what professors to avoid if you can at all help it. Dean only has a year of experience to draw from, but he's learned a few things from Cas and his other friends, so he does the best he can to be helpful.

But it really is a surprisingly platonic first day. Maybe the gears are rusty from having held back so often and so easily all summer long. And Sam doesn't know what Dean's got planned. He has held the dream of their togetherness close, but he's held it tighter to his breast. Dean has been going without all summer, after a year of near-nonstop sex. He's a bit starving right at the moment. So he grits his teeth and thinks about Professor Squatty-Face in diapers and tries not to reach over and maul Sam every chance he gets.

Cas calls right before dinnertime. He's anxious to meet Sam, and Dean's pretty curious to see how the two of them get along. After all, if things go Dean's way, Cas will be there to witness him and Sam getting together for the first time. And it's better if Sam knows and trusts the guy whose webcam they're planning on using. (Dean could always unbox his own, but why bother? He's given it to Cas to store in his apartment over the summer; having it come home with him would just invite what's-in-the-box questions.)

Nobody else can tell, but Dean catches the sweep of Castiel's eyes over Sam's body as they shake hands. He holds back a grin. He hadn't realized until just now how invested he was in Castiel's approval of Sam, not just the other way around. Seeing them get along would really, really make his day.

Consider his day made.

Sam's sitting forward in the chair, forgetting about his meal, head propped up on one upturned palm as he listens to Castiel's explanation of just what to expect when it comes to major selection. Dean's long since tuned out the actual words and is just enjoying the lazy heat that travels along his gut listening to Castiel's voice. He's missed Cas more than he thought, and somewhere between Sam's rapt face and Castiel's easy stance he feels like he's devouring a buffet of eye candy. Both of these men set his heart pounding so hard. And if all goes well, he can have them both.

He and Cas have had this conversation. Before summer, when he and Cas were recovering from another night in front of the webcam and talking about the possibilities for fall. "You know," he said, "if Sammy and I get together... he might not want me sleeping around anymore."

"It's always been your choice," Castiel said. "I don't fool myself into thinking that we're madly in love, Dean. I know the parameters of our relationship, and if you decide this is something you don't want to do anymore, I will respect that."

The words weren't as comforting as Dean expected, and he rolled onto his side, facing Castiel and frowning. "It's not a matter of not wanting it," he said, not sure whom he was trying to comfort. "It's a matter of not having the choice."

"We always have choices," Castiel replied. "They're not always the choices we wish we had, is all."

Dean hadn't been sure how to answer him. Truth is, he might be right. He might have to choose between them. But is there really a choice? Castiel is sex, and a good time, and money. But Sam, Sam is love. It should be clear-cut. And it shouldn't plant a seed of anxiety deep in his stomach to think about having to say goodbye, or let's-just-be-friends.

At least he decided a long time ago what happens when they get back to the dorm room, and Sam turns to him with expectant eyes and says, "Dean... we're here. We're finally here."

It comes all at once, and so out of nowhere that Dean forgets where he is for a second; that instant when long plans become reality is so fleeting when it finally happens, and Dean almost wants to drink it in, wants to just look at Sam and have him say it again. The words ring around his head.

"Yeah, Sammy," He can't help but grin. "We're finally here."

Sam takes the first hesitant step toward him. Waiting to be told to stop, like Dean's had to tell him for years. Waiting for it all to be crushed to dust again. And Dean's waiting, too, sure that some unseen hand is going to step in and separate them.

It doesn't come. And when he realizes it's not coming, he takes a sharp breath, swallows his fear, and steps forward himself.

His hands find Sam's face; Sam's lips meet his tasting of desperation and joy, and thank God, thank everything in the whole world they've finally made it to this point. They're free. They're together. Sam's arms snake around him, spread across his back, and holds him steady as their bodies crush together. Dean groans at the heat, the muscle. His heart is racing, beating a hot delicious tattoo against his ribs and rising into his throat. Sam. Sam's mouth against his. Sam's tongue licking at his lips. Sam's body against his body, Sam's voice murmuring "Love you, love you so much, Dean," into his mouth.

God, it hurts so much that he has to pull away a moment later.

Sam's lips part, making a round "O" of surprise, and Dean has to hold himself back from kissing them yet again. It's all he wants to do. But Sam's fingers have found their way under his shirt, and Sam's cock in his jeans is hard against Dean's thigh. There's no doubt that Sam's ready for anything and everything Dean can give him. But Dean has other plans. And no matter whether Sam says yes or no to them, he deserves to know the truth.

"Sammy," he says, "There's something you need to know about me. About what I've been doing this past year."

Sam pulls back, wounded. Dean's fingernails bite into his clenched fists. Of course Sam will react this way at first. It'll take a while to get him to understand it. Dean has to stay strong until Sam comes around.

_If_ he comes around, whispers a voice of doubt, insidious in the back of his mind.

"It's that guy you introduced me to, right?" Sam says. "Cas?" He backs off, takes a few steps across the room. "I guess... I guess I'm not surprised," he says, and he sounds bewildered and shocked, like he doesn't quite know what he's saying. "He's gorgeous, and.. and I saw the way you were looking at him. There's no reason you should be a monk for a year."

"Sam," Dean starts to say, but when Sam gets a good head of steam going, it's hard to stop him.

"You could have said something!" Sam goes on, turning on Dean. "Why didn't you bring him home, introduce him? I mean, if I knew you had a boyfriend I... I would have been heartbroken, but I kept thinking our promise still meant something. I would have thought you still wanted me the way I wanted you. And don't tell me you didn't, Dean. Don't tell me that, because I felt it just now. I've felt it for years. Don't tell me that was a lie."

"It wasn't," Dean says. "It isn't. Sam, listen to me."

"It's okay," Sam says, but the look on his face doesn't say _okay_ at all. "Really. I'll get used to it. It's okay. I'm glad you've found someone you care about, Dean. I'm just... I'm sad, because I never did. You know? I kept waiting for you. Like an idiot."

"Number one, you're not an idiot," Dean growls. He pulls himself up to his best big-brother pose, the one that used to tower over Sammy a long, long time ago. Not anymore. "Number two, you're not letting me finish here. You gonna let me tell you what's going on, or not?"

"It's pretty obvious."

All right, enough with the explainers. "Damn it, Sammy, Cas isn't my boyfriend!"

Sam's head twitches, cocks to the side, rights itself. He swallows what Dean figures is probably a wad of welling-up tears. "He's not?"

"No. He's not. But... you're right, I have been sleeping with him."

A snatch of breath halts on the way in, and Sam chokes on it. He coughs. "What's the difference?"

"There's a big difference." Dean sighs. "Sam, you're right. I haven't been a monk. But I haven't... I haven't forgotten about you either. I've always loved you, Sammy. Always will. And if you say the word, I will never sleep with Cas again. But before you say it," he adds quickly, as Sam takes another breath to speak, "you need to know exactly what we've been doing."

He strolls to the computer and clicks on his bookmark for CollegeAngels.com.

He's pretty sure Sam doesn't even breathe as the site loads. He lets out a breathy "... _no_!” when Dean searches for the name Castiel, and when the results begin to light up the screen, Sam leans forward and scrutinizes it.

“Here’s the thing, Sammy,” Dean says in his ear, while he’s still bent over, reading the words _Video: Castiel takes Dean’s virginity_ and _Forum chat: Should Dean top more often?_ over and over. “It’s not true love, but it’s fun. And it’s made me a lot of money. Enough that if I keep doing it, when I’m done with college you and I can go somewhere, live together. Where nobody knows us.”

“You’ve been-- you’ve been doing _porn_?” Sam’s voice squeaks around the word, and Dean wants desperately to laugh, because it’s so damn cute. God, he’s wanted to be this close to Sam for so long. And right now he just wants to wrap his arms around him and tell him it’s okay, he’s still Dean and everything will work out. He doesn’t. He just stands there, ready, just in case Sam faints, or his brain explodes, or something.

“Cas got me into it,” Dean says. “And you know what, Sammy? I frigging _love_ doing it. I love trying out all kinds of crazy things, being out there where people can see me, getting fan mail... it’s awesome. It makes me feel good about who I am.”

“Who... I mean, how many...”

“Just Cas. He’s probably had more, but for me it’s just been him. They test you, you can’t just sign up and...”

“I know how the sex industry works, Dean.”

“You do?” Dean dares to grin. “You always were too smart.”

Sam turns on him. “So you’d drop it, then? If I said, from now on, be with me and only me? You’d quit?”

The furrow in his brow and the determined clench of his fist on the back of the chair scare Dean a little; he doesn’t think of Sam as a hard-nosed person, one that would go around giving ultimatums, but right now he could burn bridges with the force of his stare. “If you wanted me to, Sam, yeah, but..”

“But what?” Sam shakes his head. “What could you _possibly_ say that would make me think it would be a good idea for you to keep on making _sex tapes_?”

The disdain in his voice scares the hell out of Dean. But he holds firm. “Actually, I thought maybe I could make them with you.”

Sam loses his balance. He totters from side to side, grips the chair, and finds his way down to sit in it, then scoots it out so it’s not facing the screen. “You want me to make porn with you?”

“Yeah, Sammy. I really do.” Dean moves forward a step. “Think about it. After everything, you and I could love each other way out in the open. We wouldn’t have to deny anything. We could be brothers, too. Show everyone that what we feel isn’t gross or wrong, it’s good, and we’re proud of it.”

“But you were always the one who said it was gross and wrong,” Sam says, shaking his head slowly. “Even when I was trying to convince you it wasn’t. You just completely changed your mind, and now you want to tell the whole world? How am I supposed to believe you don’t just want to make more money off me? Is that what I am? Your cash cow?”

“Sam, no. Nothing like that.”

“Is it some kind of declaration of love when you did it with Cas... a thousand and a half times?” Sam swipes the back of his palm against the computer monitor. The desk rattles. Search results jump on the screen. “Then why would you want me to be just the same as him? I don’t want to be your _fuck buddy_ , Dean. I want to be your lover. I want you and me to be together. Like a real couple.”

“That’s what I want too--”

“Then act like it!” Tears well up in Sam’s eyes. He sniffles quickly, runs his wrist over his face. “Damn it,” he says in a low voice. “This isn’t what I wanted my first night with you to be like.”

Dean steps back. He doesn’t know what else to do. There’s really nothing more he can do, other than let Sam make up his mind and get used to the idea. Maybe he’ll come around, and maybe he won’t. But Dean still really wants to be with him, and he just has to decide whether it’s worth the gamble to wait and hope Sam agrees to have their first time on camera. But that also involves Sam allowing them to have a first time, which, judging from the mood in the room right now, is in danger of never happening.

Sam heaves a long sigh after a while. “You know what?” he says. “This has been a really crazy day. Maybe... maybe I was hoping for too much. And I’ve got classes to start and... and I need to meet new people and do Freshman Week things, and... maybe we should just put this whole thing on hold until I’m settled in.”

“Okay,” Dean says, careful to keep his voice low, to avoid ruffling any more feathers. “Okay, Sammy. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”

He just hopes that doesn’t translate to _never_.

 

 

His brother. His own brother, a porn star.

It boggles Sam’s mind every time he thinks about it. Dean, who had been the object of a thousand happily-ever-after dreams. Dean, whom Sam had always thought would be his sooner or later, and his forever. It’s so far away from the ideal he’d imagined that he wants to keel over and die. Can’t it be undone? Can’t he turn back time and make Dean virginal and silently wanting him all over again?

Though when he looks at it with cold logic, he knows it was always going to happen. Even Sam had at least tried kissing a girl. Dean was always going to try to escape what he felt. He’d tried in high school. But this feels different. Partly because it’s a guy. Girls are different somehow. They’re pretty and acceptable and an out-and-out lie. But a guy feels like a replacement in the way a girl never could. The right guy could make Dean forget about him.

And part of it is that it’s sex. Not making out, not random groping. Full-on sex. Dean gave his virginity to this guy. Sam’s not a promise-ring, “most precious gift” sort of guy, but he feels like it ought to have been more special. He’s still a virgin himself. He wants to give that to Dean. To seal them as more-than-brothers, forever. Maybe he’s the romantic idiot. They’re guys. Guys aren’t supposed to care, so long as they lose their virginity at the earliest possible moment. That’s the conventional wisdom. Sam can hardly blame Dean for being sore about it.

But on camera. In front of everyone. What must that be like? Sam worries about it through his first few days of classes, tries to envision Dean stripping down and feeling the push of a cock into his ass for the first time. His face contorting with pain, a groan escaping his mouth. Sam had wanted to be the one to see it happen.

It actually takes him three or four days before he realizes he can.

In the meantime, there’s an activities fair and all kinds of orientations, not to mention reading assignments and schedules to figure out. He tears up and down the corridors looking for his 3 p.m. class. He tries to figure out if he can make it to office hours before his next lecture starts. All those insane, first-week-of-college things. And in the flurry of doing new things and meeting new people, all his curiosity and wonderings finally fade into the background.

It hangs there like a lump in the back of his throat, though. Especially when he sees couples walking down the street hand in hand. Or one of his new friends makes a dirty joke. He just grits his teeth and tries to last through the heavy, dull sense of heartbreak that pervades his senses.

Interacting with Dean is the easy part. They’ve been doing the platonic thing for years, after all. When touching each other or admitting their feelings is off the menu, they know how to fall back into the easy patterns of brotherhood and friendship. The betrayal is there, and it keeps things from being as easy as Sam wishes they were, but it doesn’t make things unbearable. And heartbreak or no heartbreak, it’s good to come home to Dean at the end of a long day.

Dean’s there most nights, but not all. Sam tries not to worry where he is or with whom, and tries to concentrate on his own life, his own work and friendships. Mom would be proud. He puts off sating his curiosity for as long as he can, but eventually he’s got his work done, and his friends are busy, and he’s faced with a night alone in the dorm room, nobody there to stop him, and the wondering gets to be too much.

He crosses to his brother’s computer. It’s got the password for CollegeAngels.com saved, and Dean doesn’t lock it. Probably on purpose.

He types “Dean” in the search bar and gets a long listing of videos. His eyes and his mouse pointer both go straight to the one that reads _Castiel takes Dean’s virginity_. He’ll be there for Dean’s first time, just a little after the fact.

Dean’s face fills the screen. A year younger, fresh, excited, smiling. Sam has to smile at him. Dean’s so beautiful. And the flush in his cheeks is so appealing. Dean looks happy. That in itself is a turn-on.

He answers a few questions, all the time grinning that stupid, innocent grin of his, and then the voice off camera tells him to take off his shirt. Sam sits forward in the chair. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but oh, God. He really wants to watch and enjoy this.

“Gorgeous,” Sam breathes when Dean’s half-naked, and Castiel, off camera, says the same. Dean’s so in his element here. He’s a natural.

“You ready to get naked?” Castiel asks, and Sam’s cock twitches in his pants. He’s seen his brother naked before, but not often, and not recently. Ever since what’s between them became overt, they’ve had a ridiculous amount of modesty. Like a pair of prudes, they’ve turned around. It would be too awkward to openly ogle, and Sam doesn’t think he could help himself. So seeing Dean shuck down his shorts, grinning hard and cheeks flushed, is a gorgeous revelation for Sam. Dean really likes to be watched. He’s getting off on this in a big way. And the bulge in his boxer briefs is a dead giveaway. Sam shifts in the computer chair and gives a little involuntary groan.

When Dean finally pulls down his briefs and takes hold of himself Sam’s gone. He leans forward, like he could throw himself through the screen, and he’s examining every twitch of Dean’s muscles, every flitting expression that ghosts across Dean’s face as he strokes. Oh, God. It’s what Sam’s dreamed of seeing from him for years. Dean. Naked, hard, turned on, showing off, being completely comfortable and completely himself. To him, the camera must have represented such a safe place. A place where what he felt wasn’t taboo, wasn’t disgusting. He could be the sensual, incredible being he is, without fear, without shame. Dean’s always been so sexy. No wonder he took that chance.

And then, abruptly, Dean’s not the only one in the camera’s view. Castiel sits down with him, kisses him, and they touch each other gently. Sam’s brain has long since departed the station, and he’s feeling everything with his skin now -- the kisses on his lips, the touches prickling his skin, the hardness rolling against his cock. He’s there, he’s feeling it, and he mutters a half-groaning “oh, yeah” as they start to stroke each other. It’s Dean’s hand on him, it’s Castiel’s, and Sam doesn’t care, he just wants, his eyes sinking closed briefly as he reaches down and gives in to the urge to touch himself.

The first touch jolts him too hard. He sits up straight, gulping, eyes wide open again, legs tightening as he tries to tamp down on the too-good feeling. He’s gonna come in his pants if he does that. He has to stay untouched, just watch. He’s not doing this to get off. Tempting as it is.

So he grabs the desk by two tight hands and watches. Watches his brother make out with Castiel, the two of them exploring and touching everywhere. Watches Castiel get naked, and watches his white skin against Dean’s tan, the way they complement each other, the way when they overlap it’s like a sky at dawn, all kinds of warm colors and all kinds of promise. And then Dean bends down and takes Castiel’s cock in his mouth, and Sam’s straining and tensing to keep from coming as his own dick throbs painfully.

Dean sucking cock. God, it’s beautiful. Obscene and beautiful, and Sam can practically feel it, feel the suction and the wet, feel Dean’s fingers dancing along his balls and his mouth sucking Sam in deeper and deeper, feel the release and rush of blood as Dean slides off him for a moment of relief with a wet, loud pop--

Sam groans, grabs his dick with one hard hand, and holds it fast. He pauses the video. This is going to take more than one viewing. And he doesn’t want to come and then keep watching. It’ll be weird after that, it’ll feel like Dean’s going on without him. He wants to be turned on by the way Dean moves and works, It’s a way of being part of it. But for now he’s going to have to stop. Because he needs to go into the shower and take care of this painful hard-on before he can even think of sleeping.

And when he does, he finds himself really looking forward to the next time he gets an evening to himself. He can’t wait to see more.

 

 

Dean hasn’t gone this long without sex in a really long time.

He’s respecting Sam’s wishes. He hasn’t been with Cas. He’s actually spent some time at another friend’s place, spending a few nights there, explaining that rooming with your brother can actually be harder than it looks. Ash doesn’t care, so long as Dean’s willing to drink beer with him. He’s a great buddy, and sometimes a great buddy is exactly what you need.

He thinks about going over to Cas’s to stay over, but he doesn’t want to show up and find Cas making videos with some other dude. That would just be awkward. Not to mention, he’s a little afraid he won’t be able to keep his hands off Cas if he is there.

That part wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to miss Cas when they’re not together. Dean wonders what it means. But he does know that what he feels for Sam is just as strong as it’s always been. He’s aware of it every second they’re in the same room, whenever they talk. It’s the easiness between them, the way they complete each other’s sentences and know each other’s every habit. It’s everything that they were as kids, under their parents’ noses. But Sam hasn’t held his hand or gone in for a kiss, and Dean figures that’s because he’s still deciding what he wants.

Whatever Sam wants will be okay with him. He’s already made that decision. And he’ll wait until Sam is ready. But God, until then, he’s sort of dying of blue balls.

Sam’s getting cheerier as the days go on. He’s talking to Dean more, he’s being friendlier. Once his hand lands on Dean’s shoulder and moves back and forth there, almost a massage, before he withdraws it. One night they sit on the bed together watching a football game and end up sleeping leaning on each other, like two crumbling pillars in a ruin. When Dean wakes up, his head tucked into Sam’s shoulder, he takes as long as he can to inhale and exhale, enjoy the sensation, before his neck hurts and he has to straighten up. And even after that, when Sam wakes, Dean’s still there, looking at him. And Sam’s grin stretches far out onto the corners of his face. “Hey, Dean,” he says in a sleepy, pleased voice.

Dean wants to hear that voice when he’s sated from sex, when they’re breathless and tangled in each other’s arms. He wants it so much he could reach out and touch it.

And he wants it so much he’s resisting doing just that.

Cas comes to the dining hall sometimes to have dinner with them. He and Sam get along strangely well, though Sam did a lot of sizing him up for the first week. Dean can’t blame him. Must be weird to meet your brother’s boyfriend, or your brother’s _ex_ , rather, even if you don’t want to be sleeping with your brother. He’s amazed they haven’t come to blows, actually. But Sam takes to Castiel’s pragmatism, his honesty. They have a long discussion about Beowulf that Dean doesn’t follow a word of. And Sam actually asks him for help on a paper a few weeks in. Dean comes home one day to find Cas hunched over Sam’s desk, reading what Sam has typed up and suggesting he move a paragraph from one place to the next. It’s enough to warm a guy’s heart.

Sam’s asked once or twice. “So you’re not still--”

“Not since you moved in, Sammy,” Dean says, every time. “I’m waiting for you.”

“I know,” Sam says, the first few times. “Please, Dean... wait a little longer.”

These days, he just sort of smiles and says, “I know.”

Actually, these days he doesn’t ask. But he does a lot of smiling.

But by now they’re close to midterms, and Dean’s at the library trying to work out whether he’s more interested in medieval religion or the art of the enlightenment for his paper, and Sam’s struggling through first-semester calc, and Cas is doing some sort of extended laboratory experiment that involves cordoning off a whole area of the chem lab in the basement of the sciences building, and their lives are basically all about school. Imagine that. A pair of Winchesters and a college angel, locked in a bizarre love triangle, spending most of their days concentrating on academics. It’s either an example of advanced denial, or they’re actually growing up and learning priorities. Dean’s not sure which, but either way, he figures, it’s for the best.

And then, one night, Sam leans over the table toward Castiel and says, “Can you come up to the room after dinner? I have something I want to ask you about.”

Which isn’t anything special in and of itself, but a moment later, he looks at Dean and adds, “Ask you both about, actually.”

Sam walks into the room last, closes the door behind him, and takes a few shallow breaths. Dean notices for the first time that his pulse is high in his throat, making his Adam’s apple vibrate. He tenses in response, his breath quickening, and he sits down on the bed.

“So I’m, uh...” Sam starts, and rubs his hand along his scalp nervously. He turns to Cas. “I’m guessing that you know everything, right? About Dean and me?”

“I do,” Castiel says. “I’m unsure of the details, but... I know how you feel, yes.”

“Yeah.” Sam sits on his own bed. “And I know what you guys have done. I’ve... I’ve seen it. I’ve been watching the videos.”

Dean’s heart leaps up into his throat. “You have?”

Sam’s eyes meet his. God, they’re so huge, and dark, and Dean could drown in them. “Almost all of them, by now. Whenever you’re not here. Dean, they’re...”

“They’re over, Sammy,” Dean says reflexively. “I told you, I haven’t--”

“They’re really good,” Sam says.

Dean’s jaw opens and closes uselessly.

“You’re really good. And the way you--” Sam laughs a little, shakes his head. “The way you seem so happy in them. Free. I really like seeing you like that. And I want...”

He chews on the words, frowning in thought. Dean gapes. Castiel sits, his expression unreadable, just watching.

Sam takes a long breath. “I want to be the one to make you feel like that,” he says finally. “And I want to feel it too.”

The words hang in the air. It takes Dean a long time to find his own.

“What are you saying, Sammy?” he finally manages, hoarse.

Sam rises, crosses the room, and slides his hands onto Dean’s face. Dean flushes under the warmth of his palms. Slowly, carefully, Sam leans down and lays a single, soft kiss on his mouth. Dean’s aware of the kiss, aware of his own trembling hands and of Castiel watching. Too aware to dare respond. Fear is spinning in his heart.

“Dean,” Sam says, pulling back. “I want to be with you.”

And he turns to Castiel. Turns and grins.

“You want to film our first time?” he asks.


	4. CollegeAngels.com

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/profile)[**obstinatrix***](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/) for an amazing beta and [](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/)**dazedrose** for panty-melting art!

  


Chapter 4

Dean’s heart is somewhere north of his throat, thrumming in his brain he thinks, but it’s definitely not where it’s supposed to be. He can see the same in Sam’s expression. They’re both trying hard just to hold onto their sanity, holding hands tightly as they ascend the stairs to Castiel’s apartment, walking through the open door as Castiel looks them both over briefly and then shuts the door and turns on the white noise machine he keeps to drown out anything that might upset the neighbors. Dean’s seen him go through the motions a million times, but it’s never felt as momentous as it does now.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asks Sam under his breath.

“Sure I’m sure.” But Sam’s body is vibrating.

“You’re sure you’re sure?”

“Dean.” A cock of Sam’s head, the patented _you’re being ridiculous_ raise of his eyebrows, and Dean relents. He feels more at home with that expression on Sam’s face.

Castiel sits in front of the camera, gives a short wave to the viewers. Dean can’t see the counter from where he’s standing but he’s pretty sure it’s in the triple digits. Cas has always had a loyal audience. “It’s nice to see you all again,” Castiel says, “but I’m actually not going to be making a video for you tonight. I have a special treat for you, though. You all remember Dean? Turns out Dean has a brother. And the two of them are going to be on camera tonight.”

He scoots over, invites Dean and Sam to sit down in front of the camera. Dean slides up, holds out his hand, and Sam takes a deep breath and comes to join him.

“Say hi to the people, Sam,” Dean says, by way of introduction.

Sam waves, unsure. “Uh, hi, people.”

Dean slings an arm around him and points to the screen. “See, you can see what they’re saying here.” Sam leans in, squints, nods. Dean slides a hand down his back as he reads, mapping the curve of his spine, and a pang of want goes through Dean that nearly makes him moan aloud. They’ve waited so long for this. Finally.

“That’s so cool,” Sam says. “So they’re watching us now?” He breaks into a grin. “Hi, everyone. I’m-- uh, I’m Sam. I have always wanted...” He blushes. “This. What we’re going to do tonight. So, um... I hope you enjoy it.”

Off camera, Castiel chuckles. “Sam, why don’t you give your brother a kiss for us?”

Sam’s eyes flicker toward him, confused for a second, but then he nods. He slides a hand under Dean’s chin, and Dean turns into it, grinning. They’re hardly able to stop smiling enough to kiss, but once their lips come together, it’s all fluid and soft, Sam’s mouth supple and giving, and Dean’s laughter fades. Sam’s tongue licks into his mouth, and Dean pulls away for an instant, giving the audience a glimpse of flashing tongues before pulling Sam in close and deepening the kiss.

Sam gives a soft, ragged breath as they finally part. His eyes are on Dean, unrelenting, and he breathes shallowly as he sits there, body tense, ready for the next instruction.

“How does that feel?” Castiel prompts, his voice soft-rough.

“Feels so good,” Sam offers readily, his eyes still on Dean’s.

“Sam, do you want Dean to get you naked?”

“Oh God yes,” Sam answers even before Castiel can finish the question. He sits obediently, eyes huge and begging, as Dean leans over to pull his shirt over his head.

A rush of fabric, static pulling Sam’s hair into a flyaway mess, and Dean’s leaning in to kiss him again, dragging hot palms down across his chest. Sam. Solid and adult beneath his fingertips. All his. Sam moans and bites at Dean’s lower lip. His hands reach out to tug at Dean’s shirt.

Castiel interrupts. “First you get naked,” he says. “Then Dean.” Sam drops his hands with a disappointed grunt, but when Dean’s hand drops to his pants and starts undoing the buttons and fly, he forgets his disappointment. His hips start to buck upward into Dean’s hands, which are staying skillfully out of the way of the lump at Sam’s crotch. Dean wants to feel it all at once, and he wants to see it. So he’s deliberate and determined, but he does reach in to plant a sucking kiss on Sam’s neck before he tugs his pants down.

“Oh, holy Jesus God, Sammy,” Dean mutters. “God, fuckin’ look at you.”

Sam’s golden, gorgeous and long everywhere, from the stretch of his calves to his twitching fingertips, and of course his cock is long too. It stands hard and proud, reaching nearly to his navel as it juts up. Dean’s mouth waters, and he motions to Cas to pick up the camera and follow them, murmuring, “Lean back, Sammy,” and guiding him to lie spread out on the bed.

There’s too much of him, too much to appreciate, and Dean itches everywhere at once. He starts by crawling to Sam’s side, dropping his head to kiss at Sam’s collarbone. Sam moans, shifts, grabs the sheets, his eyelashes fluttering as his eyes slide closed. When Dean slides his mouth downward, capturing one brown nipple, Sam jerks beneath him, hips shifting up and then landing on the bed hard enough to creak the springs. “Dean,” he cries out, hands coming up to grab at Dean’s hair, but Dean shakes loose.

He rubs his hands against the landscape of Sam’s chest and stomach, works his way down, and before he’s even reached Sam’s cock he can feel the heat of it, radiating up at him. Sam props himself up on his elbows, trying to peer down the length of his body to see what Dean’s doing, and Dean catches his eye and winks.

“You want to feel this, Sammy?” A frantic nod. “Want to feel my mouth on your cock?”

“Oh, God, Dean, more than anything.” His voice aches with desperation.

Dean would tease him, _should_ tease him, but he wants this more than anything too and there’s no use denying it. As Sam’s cock slides into his mouth -- effortless, like it fits there -- a rush of excitement roils through him, his adrenaline spiking, and for a moment he’s almost light-headed. Sam’s on his tongue at last. Perfect and familiar, smelling of places they’ve been and intimate moments they’ve shared in adjoining beds or curled together when no one could see. Dean inhales his childhood and tastes possibilities. Warm and spicy, sweat and skin. Dean sucks him in deeper. He can’t get enough.

And Sam’s rolling up to push him further, hands grabbing at his scalp. His moans are filling the room, quavering treble notes broken by quick breaths. The sound fills Dean’s eardrums. He sucks harder, hungrier. His tongue swipes by a wash of salty fluid on the tip of Sam’s cock. He moans at the taste of it.

“Dean,” Sam whispers raggedly, pulling at his hair. “Dean, stop, stop, oh, my _God_.”

Dean shakes his head, keeps sucking. Stop now? When Sam’s beneath him twitching and throbbing, the most beautiful he’s ever been? Fuck, no.

“Dean, _God_ , please!”

It takes Castiel’s harsh “Dean, stop,” to snap Dean out of it. He pulls off quickly, but it’s too late. Sam cries out and comes, spattering his own stomach, hips pumping frantically into the air as sensation washes over him. Dean watches, open-mouthed, his own cock a heavy, steady pulse between his legs.

Sam’s last cry breaks from his throat, and he opens his eyes, meets Dean’s gaze. “Dean, I’m... I’m sorry...”

Dean laughs. “You never change, Sammy,” he says, crawling up Sam’s body to kiss him.

Sam moans into the kiss. “I love you,” he murmurs, “love you so much.” He raises a hand to Dean’s face, strokes Dean’s cheek with his thumb.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Dean murmurs. “Stay right there.” One more kiss and he’s moving down Sam’s body, fastening his mouth around one spatter of come and licking it up. Sam gasps, tenses again, then relaxes, giving soft little sighing-humming moans as Dean cleans him up spot by spot. Dean laps along the hollow of Sam’s stomach where most of his come has pooled; he sucks it up, each splash of watery-salty stickiness on his tongue a reminder of how Sam looked when his body locked up and he lost all control. One soft suck along the length of Sam’s cock -- Sam yelps and grabs the bed -- and he’s done, looking down at Sam’s glistening body, overwhelmed with emotion.

“Feel good?” he murmurs, coming to lie beside Sam.

“Yeah.” Sam nuzzles his face, and they kiss, a soft, languid melding of lips. “Hey, Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“You can still, you know... “ He rolls his body against Dean’s and blushes a bit. “You can still fuck me. If you want.”

Dean kisses his mouth. “I don’t wanna tire you out.”

Sam grins. “I’m feeling pretty good. Dean--” He rubs his body against Dean’s, grabs Dean’s hips and hauls them in close. “I’ve waited a really, really long time to have you inside me.” His eyes are blazing with purpose. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

There’s nothing Dean can say to that but “okay.”

They lie together, kissing, touching, for five minutes longer, even after that decision’s made -- Dean gets caught up in the feel of Sam, the solidity of him and the yielding softness of his mouth, and Sam’s moans send shudders through his body. Sam pulls at Dean’s shirt, gets it off after a few more minutes, and Dean shucks down his own jeans, anxious to get naked. When he’s undressed, when his hard-on is exposed, Sam grabs it, strokes it hard, and Dean groans, throwing his head back and forgetting everything but the wild rip of heat up his spine at the touch. But after a few feathering fingers on the head, Sam’s hand is gone, and Dean gives a soft whimper.

“Want it in me, Dean,” Sam murmurs, his tone all low heat.

“ _Shit_ , Sammy,” Dean groans, and goes for the lube.

Sam’s easy and responsive, opening up quicker than Dean ever did, and Dean has to wonder what he’s done to prepare himself for this. It’s definitely not the first time he’s had something up his ass, and a charge of lust goes through him as he imagines Sam, alone, playing with himself and fantasizing about the day it would be Dean opening him up. And now here Sam is, groaning, bucking backward into his fingers and moaning “Dean, oh, God, Dean...!” Dean hopes the reality is living up to the expectation. He wants Sam to have the best of him. The best of everything.

Sam’s head snaps back and he pants. “Fuck me, Dean. God, please, now, hurry up.”

Dean still can’t say no to him.

He curls down over Sam vertebra by vertebra, body meeting Sam’s an inch at a time, and Dean fastens his mouth to Sam’s as he works his way in, makes sure they’re connected. Sam shouts into his mouth, his voice filling the room. And when his hips curl upward, when he locks his legs over Dean’s back to pull him in, Dean hears his own voice join Sam’s in a wild groan. Sam’s so hot, so tight, and his whole body is fluid, curling up against Dean’s. Like waves, like clasped hands, they move together, and Sam’s hands on the back of his neck steady Dean and keep him grounded. With each stroke, they kiss, then pant, taking in breath enough to moan when the next thrust hits completion and the heat rises up through their bodies.

Sam’s barely gone soft from earlier, but he’s hard again now, and from the wild little twitches of his hip and the way his breath is erratic, Dean dares to think he might come again. He breaks away, looks into Sam’s eyes, whispers, “Sammy, you close?” and Sam fixes him with wild eyes and nods hard.

“Want to feel me come in you?”

“Oh, god, oh, God, Dean, _please_...”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, buries his head in the crook of Sam’s shoulder, and affixes his mouth to Sam’s neck, sucking on white skin and licking up sweat. His hips motor forward, hard little circles, and Sam clutches at him over and over again, crying out his name along with _please_ and _yes_ and _oh God._ It’s everything Dean ever dreamed of, him in Sam and Sam all around him, and he’s almost gone, so ready to come, to let his body crest over the edge and see his vision white out.

He catches a glimpse of Castiel. In the corner, watching, his eyes wide and blue. He’s got one hand on his pants, trying to hold himself down. When he sees Dean looking, he smiles, mouths _Go on_.

Dean nods. The corners of his mouth turn up. And he kisses Sam’s mouth again, screams into it as the wash of orgasm overwhelms him. Halfway through his own cry, he feels Sam break into shudders, and for an incredible moment they’re both coming, rutting into each other’s bodies, lost together. Gravity stops working. Dean’s heart doesn’t beat. He’s suspended in time and space, with Sam, forever and ever.

And then it’s over and they’re panting, kissing hard, Sam pulling at his hair, both of them searching for breath.

Sam grins. “Oh, my God,” he whispers.

“Love you, Sammy,” Dean says before he can think better of it.

“I forgot about the camera,” Sam says. “You think they liked it?”

Dean rolls off him, looks down at the two of them. They’re both caked with Sam’s come this time, Dean’s chest and stomach as sticky with it as Sam’s own. “I think they’re getting a good view now.” He trails a finger down Sam’s chest, draws it up Sam’s cock, to dot on the end, then leans in to kiss Sam lazily. Long and slow. Pretty soon, he’s forgotten about the camera, too.

He and Sam read the chat logs voraciously the next day. The viewer count has skyrocketed again, with hangers-on looking for a good show drawn in by the number of people already watching Castiel’s channel. Someone had posted “Hot brotherfucking in Castiel’s cam!!” along with a bunch of overexcited emoticons in the forum, and that had brought in a bunch more people, Dean’s pretty sure. And the responses are amazing.

_He calls him Sammy omg i’m gonna die_  
 _fuck, he’s hot, hotter than dean_  
 _no way, dean’s still the hottest_  
 _jesus that’s so fucking hot_  
 _is he hard again_  
 _shit i could watch them kissing for days_

Sam turns to Dean with the same excited flush Dean remembers feeling in his own cheeks when he first saw what people said about him. He’s sold then, and Dean knows he’ll be happy to make more videos.

Castiel gets money too, when they appear on his cam, so Sam and Dean do a lot of fucking there in the weeks that follow. Cas sometimes leaves them alone, sometimes watches, and occasionally he climbs in front of the camera afterward and jerks off. It was weird the first time, but by the second Sam and Dean just lie there and watch him. He’s a good showman, after all, and it’s still fun to see his body undulate and his hand fly on his cock until it’s sticky and dripping with his come. Dean fights the urge to advance on the bed, drop to his knees and lick it all off. It’s such a tempting sight.

He misses fucking Cas. But he made a promise to Sam, and he intends to keep it. After all, he and Cas have only fucked off-camera the once. Sam and Dean are in bed together every night, exploring their new freedom. They basically can’t keep their hands off each other. That happens, when you’ve basically been waiting all your lives to be able to touch.

And Cas is good about it. Most of the time.

One of Dean’s favorite things about the new order is that Sam isn’t the jealous type. He trusts Dean, implicitly, and that means he’s perfectly happy to hang out with Castiel. And Dean really enjoys watching the two of them together, discussing some book or other, or comparing notes on a computer science assignment (it all reads like some ancient witch language to Dean), Sam’s brow furrowed and Castiel’s eyes wide as he explains something that he learned last year in the 101 course Sam’s now taking. They’re like a buffet, and Dean wants to reach over and grab all he can eat.

But there are some days things don’t go as well. Sometimes Dean will call over, ask if Cas is interested in ‘casting them that night, and Castiel will plead some assignment or previous engagement, or just snap, “Why don’t the two of you set up your own damn camera already?” And he’ll hang up before Dean can say another word. It’s weird. Dean doesn’t really know what he’s done to deserve it.

“You really should set up the camera in here,” Sam says, but Dean doesn’t want to. This is their space to be alone together. He doesn’t want to turn it into a place for public sex. It would ruin how sacred he’s come to hold this room. This room where they can be everything to each other, even while pretending to the world that they’re nothing more than brothers.

He likes the world of his feelings and the world of sex-for-fun-and-money neatly separated, two distinct spheres. He likes to think that they’ll stay there. But there are times he can feel those two worlds creeping closer together. And he’s afraid of what happens when those lines blur... and more afraid that they already have.

“So how’s the channel going?” he asks Castiel one night. They’re hanging out outside the convenience store, crouching on the pavement, sucking on sodas and watching the world go by.

Castiel looks at him sideways. “What?”

“You know. I take it you’re keeping it up.” Dean makes a lewd gesture with one of his hands.

Castiel’s silent, and Dean frowns at him, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. “Sorry, dude, I didn’t realize you didn’t wanna talk about it.”

“Is that what you think?” Castiel says quietly. “You think I’ve been screwing random guys when you and Sam aren’t around?”

Dean takes in a breath. “I ... I just figured. You did it before you met me.”

“Exactly,” Castiel replies. “Before I met you.” He rises and looks down at Dean, and for an instant his gaze is cold, then hot with sorrow. Dean takes in a breath, but by the time he can muster up a word to say, Castiel’s already strode away.

Dean jumps to his feet and rockets after him. “Cas. Cas!” he shouts, plowing through the student traffic on the sidewalk, nearly knocking over a poor girl laden with books. He stops, steadies her, makes sure she’s okay, and in the moment it takes Cas has already turned a corner. He’s a stubborn idiot, but he’s still an idiot, and Dean hopes Cas doesn’t think Dean’s gonna let him get away without finishing the conversation.

He heads for Castiel’s apartment and readies himself to wait it out until Cas comes home.

His mind’s whirling, though. He’s always purposefully avoided seeing what else Castiel has done on his channel. It would be weird, and it would push Dean toward a place where he might care what Cas is doing when he’s not in the room. Which is none of his business. But the idea that Castiel hasn’t been with anyone else -- as unbelievable as it is -- fills his mind with dizzy, whirling excitement.

He shouldn’t want Cas to care about him. It makes everything messier. But the inexplicable happiness in his chest won’t go away. And it’s doubly frightening because he wouldn’t be this happy, he wouldn’t care so much, if he didn’t have feelings for Castiel, too.

He’s Sam’s though. That was decided. Castiel can never be more than a friend, ever again.

He’s there for an hour, waiting, sighing, wondering and so deeply lost in his own head that he almost doesn’t notice when Castiel finally appears at the head of the staircase. He’s wet -- it’s started raining while Dean’s been waiting -- and his hair is rumpled and matted across his face. His eyes take Dean in, wide and searching, and the urge to grab him and kiss him to distraction surges up in Dean so fast that he almost can’t control it.

“I should have known,” Castiel says, giving a soft smile. “You’re certainly persistent.”

“Cas,” Dean says, stepping forward. “I had no idea.”

Castiel takes a breath. “I know,” he says. “I didn’t want it to happen, Dean. I never intended for it to happen. But after you, I just... I didn’t want to be with anyone else. You were all I wanted. I didn’t see any reason to continue when you were fulfilling all my needs.” He comes to Dean’s side, leans against the wall next to him. “Now that I know how it feels to be left behind, I wish I had forced myself to continue. This hurts. Seeing you and Sam together... hurts.”

“But you always seem so happy to see us together. And turned on.” Dean raises an eyebrow. “I mean, you never seemed to be jealous.”

“Part of that’s because I don’t know who to be more jealous of,” Castiel says.

“You mean... Sam, too?”

Castiel shrugs. “I have these beautiful men in my room, and I’m not allowed to touch either of them. And one of them I’ve been with, and I have all the memories of how good we were together. And the other... I see him touch and be touched, and I wonder about the possibilities. But it’s more than just you, or Sam. It’s what you have together. It’s beautiful, Dean. Breathtakingly beautiful. And next to the two of you, I just feel so... emotionally stunted. So incapable of making that connection. I came so close with you, and just when I thought we might have something real, something that went beyond the cameras... Sam comes here, and you’re his.”

“I have to be his,” Dean says. “He’s my brother. He can’t be second to anyone. He wants me to be all his... what else can I do?”

“I know.” Castiel heaves a sigh. Dean reaches for him, tries to draw him into an embrace, but Castiel shakes away. “Don’t, Dean. I can’t just touch you anymore. I feel too much when I do.”

“So, what? We can’t even be friends anymore? Cas, that hurts _me_.”

“I want to be friends,” Castiel says. “I do. With both of you. But I’m going to need some time, Dean. I’m sorry.”

He leans in, ghosts a soft kiss across Dean’s cheek, and ducks into his room, closing and locking the door before Dean can move.

His hand on his cheek, his heart thudding like a dull, dying thing, Dean stands outside the door for a moment, then heads home. He’ll have to tell Sam about this, eventually. But right now he just wants to curl up in bed and be alone.  


“Dean.”

“Mmrm.”

“Dean. Cut it out. You can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Sh’dup. Can.”

Sam sighs. “This isn’t even like you. You’re supposed to stamp around and break things, not sulk in bed like... like I do.” Sam makes himself laugh with this, but Dean’s not laughing. “Seriously, dude. You’re scaring me. What the hell happened that’s got you so down? I thought you were just hung over or something this morning, but it’s noon.”

“Go away.” They’re the clearest words so far, and Dean actually pokes his head over the covers long enough to glower at Sam before pulling the blanket over his head again.

“Forget it.” Sam yanks at the covers. Dean pulls back. They play tug-of-war for a minute before Sam sighs resolutely and sits down on the foot of Dean’s bed. “Fine. If you’re not getting up and going to class, neither am I. We’ll just sit here all day and sulk together.”

“I hate you,” Dean says.

“No, you don’t.”

“Go away. You have nothing to sulk about.”

“Neither do you, as far as I know. C’mon, Dean, just spill. You’ll feel better.”

Dean pulls down the blanket to glare at him again. “You won’t like it.”

“So I won’t like it. You’ll still feel better.” Dean mutters at this and turns over in bed. “Just spit it out, Dean. I swear, I won’t be mad.”

Dean says nothing. So Sam settles against the wall, closes his eyes, and settles in for the long haul.

Neither of them moves for a good five minutes. Waiting each other out, seeing who will crack first. Sam takes in a breath as though he’s going to speak a few times, but he never does. The seconds drag on in the dorm room, and the aroma of lunch wafts up from the dining hall below. Sam’s stomach grumbles. He wishes Dean would get the hell up already if only so Sam can get some food.

But that’s not happening unless Dean fesses up. Sam’s already proved he can be stubborn as hell. He’s not about to back down because of a little hunger.

Dean mumbles something into his pillow. Sam perks up, cocking his head to the side. But Dean doesn’t say anything after that, and Sam’s not gonna beg him. If Dean wants to share, he’ll have to make an effort.

Another minute before Dean bothers. He rolls over in bed so he’s facing up, opens one eye to peer upward at Sam, closes it again, and turns his face to the side before spitting out, “Cas misses me.”

Sam sucks in a breath. He doesn’t know why this surprises him. It’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“He does?” he says, trying to stay guarded and neutral.

Dean nods. “I miss him too,” he says, quickly and all in a rush, then winces like he’s expecting a blow.

Sam takes in a measured breath, trying to decide how he feels about it. “You miss him, like, how?” He knows the answer. And he doesn’t blame Dean for grumbling instead of answering, because if it were Sam he’d be terrified of telling someone he’s still hung up on his ex. Not that Sam’s ever had an ex, really. But he does know what it is to have to admit you’re hung up on someone else.

He sighs. “Dean, look. I... I don’t know how I feel about it, really. But if you miss him, you should go back to him. I don’t want you to be with me if you don’t want to be.”

“I want to be, damn it.” Dean sits up abruptly, throwing off the covers. He grabs Sam’s hand, twines their fingers together. “I want to be with you, Sammy, I love you, you _know_ that.” He stares Sam down, eyes furious and intensely green. Sam swallows hard. Even flushed and sweaty from staying in bed too long, Dean’s gorgeous, and it’s hard not to just grab him and hold tight. “But I-- I want him, too. I miss being with him, I miss.. not just the sex, God knows I miss that too, but...”

“It’s not just sex with him?” A strange seed of hope is hovering in Sam’s heart, one he didn’t expect to feel there. But if Castiel isn’t just a casual sex partner, if Dean honestly cares for him, then that changes the whole landscape. It means Sam wasn’t compromising, agreeing to do videos. They were always on the same level. Dean cares about them both, and that feels more honest somehow.

“Don’t think it ever was,” Dean confesses. “God, Sam, I wish I didn’t, but I thought -- I thought it was just sex for _him_ , and it wasn’t. And you should have seen his face... he said he didn’t want to see me for a while and I thought-- I thought I was gonna just fall down dead when he said it.”

“Dean.” Sam reaches forward, pulls Dean into a hug. “Dean, it’s okay. I don’t-- I don’t really know why, but it’s okay. I’m gonna make everything okay. I’m gonna go talk to him, all right?”

Dean sighs against his shoulder. “I don’t know if he’s gonna want to see you, Sammy. You’re kind of the problem.”

“Then it’s my job to make a solution.”

Unexpectedly, Dean snorts. “There’s a dirty joke there somewhere.”

“Now _there’s_ my brother.” Sam squeezes him. “Sit tight, Dean. I’m gonna fix everything.”

 

 

Sam has to knock on Cas’s door three times. “Cas, it’s Sam,” he shouts through the doorway. “Come on, dude. I know you’re in there, we need to talk.”

Nothing the first time. The second time, Sam says, "Don’t make me shout through the door, Cas, come on. Swear I’m not mad, okay?” Castiel finally answers the door halfway through the third set of knocks, and Sam can see immediately the pain on his face, the fear and the stress. He’s never seen Castiel look this haggard, this upset. He sort of wonders if Castiel’s ever felt this way before. Sam knows the emotion in his face well. It’s the look of someone who’s afraid he’s been left behind. Sam’s seen it in the mirror.

“I don’t think you should be here,” Castiel says, but he lets Sam through the door anyway; Sam comes to sit down on the couch in the living room. This isn’t a conversation for the bed.

Castiel pulls two soda cans from the refrigerator and tosses one to Sam. “What, no beer?” Sam says with a grin, but it occurs to him that this is a conversation they need to have sober. The feelings are riding high enough to intoxicate them, anyway. Alcohol would just make things worse. He pops the top off the can and takes a swig of fizzy cola. “Thanks,” he says after the first swallow. Castiel stands in the middle of the room, rigid, nodding, holding his own can between two stiff hands and not opening it.

“Look,” Sam says, “Dean told me what happened. He’s pretty upset. It took me a while to get the truth out of him.”

“He’s not the only one who’s upset,” Castiel says, glowering.

“I know. I know, man. It’s a tough situation. But that’s why I’m here. It doesn’t have to be.”

Castiel’s scowl deepens. “Tell me how it doesn’t need to be difficult.” Skepticism hangs in heavy, sharp angles off the edges of his words.

Sam sighs. He sets down his soda can, gets up from the couch. “Look. When Dean and I were growing up, we knew what we felt wasn’t normal. So we both tried to get over it. Tried to be with other people. And even when that was happening, we were still connected. We still loved each other. I’m not... I’m not threatened by you, Cas. If Dean needs to be with you, if you guys want to still be together, that’s not gonna take away from what Dean and I have.” He takes a breath and another step toward Castiel. “I trust him. And I love him, and I want him to be happy. And if he’s gonna be unhappy without you, then...”

Castiel shakes his head. His eyes bore mournfully into Sam’s. “I don’t want to be second to anyone, Sam. I don’t want to be with him if, when he does have to choose, he always chooses you.”

“I can’t help who he chooses,” Sam says. “I can’t help that we’re brothers. But he cares about you, Cas. And he misses you.” Something keeps drawing him closer, and he’s standing over Cas now, looking down at him. A few inches between their faces.

“I miss him,” Castiel answers readily. He’s playing with the tab on his soda can, pulling it back and forth without managing to open it. Sam glances down at it. It’s gone warped by now, lost the leverage it takes to pull the can open. Castiel frowns. “Damn it.”

“Here,” Sam says, and reaches out to layer his hand over Castiel’s. He guides Cas’s hand away, pushes his thumb down against the top, and it pops open with a hiss. A rush of carbonation tickles his fingertip.

“Thank you.” Castiel’s voice is dull. He’s looking at Sam’s face now, not at the soda can. Sam’s heart thuds in his chest. He pulls his hand away and toys, briefly, with the idea of letting it land on Castiel’s arm. In the end, he lets his arm flop to his side.

Castiel lifts the can to his mouth and drinks the whole thing in a single gulp. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. A moment later, he turns his head to the side and lifts his hand to shield Sam from the expulsion of air. It’s cute. Sam finds himself smiling. “Excuse me,” Castiel says.

“Hey, Cas?” Sam hears himself say.

Eyes meet his. It really is like a magnet. Sam swallows hard.

“Yes?”

“Nothing. Never mind.” Sam has no idea what he was going to say. “But look. If it helps, I don’t think Dean thinks of either of us as more important than the other. When he cares about someone, he’ll do whatever it takes to make them happy. That’s why he’s not here fighting with you still. He thinks you’ll be happier without him, in the long run. That’s the same reason he went off to college in the first place.” He laughs. “He thinks I don’t know, but I could tell. He was trying to give me space to get over him, so I wouldn’t be always thinking about him. Didn’t happen that way, though.”

“No,” Castiel says, “it didn’t.” His smile is a sad one. He turns, walks toward the garbage to toss out his soda can. “I sometimes think that you may be the wisest of us, Sam. In spite of being the youngest.”

The compliment feels strange, and Sam isn’t sure how to take it. He just says “Thanks,” considers following it up with _...I think_ , but stays quiet.

Castiel’s back is still to him. “In any case, Sam, wanting to be with Dean is only half the problem.”

Now Sam’s utterly lost. “What do you mean?”

Castiel is silent and still for a long time. The question hangs unanswered in the air, and Sam feels like he can hear it resounding off every surface in the small apartment, the refrigerator and the small table by the couch and the closed door to the bedroom. And his own heartbeat, a counterpoint, telling him something significant is about to happen. He finds himself holding his breath.

When Castiel turns, his eyes settle on Sam’s, purposeful and heated. And Sam knows the answer to the question before Castiel says it.

 

 

Dean tries to fight, but Sam’s final “Just show up” won’t brook any disagreement, and he hangs up before Dean can argue again. Nothing to be done but to go over there and see what the hell Sam has up his sleeve. He’s terrified, but nothing’s going to change if he just stays in his room and sulks. As comfortable as that is. And he can’t help but have faith in Sam, Sam who’s said he’s going to solve this, and Dean believes in him, just as much as he believed Cas when Cas said they couldn’t see each other for a while. Two people he trusts, saying opposite things, and leaving Dean in limbo without a voice or a say in which direction his life goes.

That’s not true. He does have a say, but any way he can think to go would hurt someone, and he can’t stand hurting Sam or hurting Cas. That’s what’s made him so damn miserable. He loves them both too much to think about choosing. And even if he were with them both, he’d still have to choose between them, and he doesn’t want to.

He just doesn’t see a way out of it. All he can do is hope -- blindly -- that Sam is smarter than he is and has seen some possibility he hasn’t.

When he knocks on Castiel’s door, his heart is pounding. And when Sam answers, the smile he gives Dean sets it off on a new round of frantic thrumming. What’s with that smile? What’s about to happen?

Castiel sits on the couch, his knees and hands drawn tightly together. He’s as tense as Dean’s ever seen him, and Dean’s immediate instinct is to go over and massage his shoulders, stroke his hair until he’s relaxed. He digs his fingernails into his palm to keep from acting on it. The seat he takes on the couch is as far from Cas as he can possibly get.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says, his eyes hungry. He forces his gaze away in another second.

“Thanks for coming over,” Sam says. He rounds the couch, drops a kiss on the crown of Dean’s head, then crouches by Dean’s side. Even with his legs folded, he’s ridiculously tall, practically looking Dean in the eyes. “Dean, I told you everything was going to be okay, and it is. I have an idea.”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t get it.”

Sam reaches out and squeezes one of Dean’s hands in his own. “Do you trust me?” Dean nods. “And if I say I love you, do you believe me?”

Another nod, but Dean opens his mouth. “Sammy, what are you--”

Sam’s finger comes up, stills Dean’s lips. “Then trust me right now, okay?”

Dean nods mutely.

Sam rises to his feet, walks the length of the couch, and stops in front of Castiel. “You ready?”

Castiel nods. He’s trembling minutely, and Dean watches his body, feeling the tremors as though they’re in his own muscles. The butterflies in Castiel’s stomach, too -- Dean can feel them. And still it doesn’t occur to him what’s about to happen. Not until Castiel gets up and slides his hands into Sam’s. And they both look over at Dean, making sure he’s watching.

Dean gets to his feet, open-mouthed, and says nothing.

Sam lowers his head to Castiel’s, and their lips meet. It’s like the world has stopped. Dean, frozen. Sam and Cas, still and serene in their kiss. Only Dean’s heartbeat thuds through the scene, forcing the clock forward. And then Castiel makes a small noise, and pushes closer into Sam’s arms. Sam takes in a breath, layers his lips over Castiel’s again, and their mouths slide open, tasting, exploring.

Dean can feel and taste both of them on his tongue. Remembered kisses fold over each other in his senses as he watches. His pulse pounds. His whole body heats up. The next moan to fill the room is his own.

Sam’s forehead pushes against Castiel’s briefly, and then they’re parting, pulling away. Castiel’s smile is small and nervous, but Sam’s is wide. “Nobody has to choose anybody, Dean. We can all be together.”

Dean blinks. He doesn’t have a response. His jaw is hanging stupid and dull from his skull.

“I mean, when you think about it, when I was watching the videos of you guys, and when Cas was watching us, we were all pretty much together. I felt it, Dean. When I was watching the two of you. It was like I was there. Part of it. And I know you felt like you were with Cas when we were in the room with him. When Cas would get up in front of the camera when we were done... I wanted to touch him, too. I know you did, but I did too. I-- oh, God, Dean, say something.” Sam lets go of one of Castiel’s hands, reaches out for Dean.

Dean watches his outstretched hand. He shakes his head. “You’re crazy,” he mutters. “We’re never gonna be all equal. Even if you two -- even if I -- there’s always gonna be times someone’s left out. Someone’s always gonna feel like crap.”

“Is that how you felt while Sam and I were kissing?” Castiel says quietly. “Did you feel like crap, Dean?”

“I--” Dean meets his gaze. A shockwave of warmth rolls down his body. “No.”

“Then what did you feel?” Sam asks.

“Like...” Dean’s eyes widen. “Like I was part of it.”

“Then, there you go.” Sam’s hand renews its outward push. Dean’s tempted, and he lifts his own hand, lets it hover for a moment, inches from Sam’s.

He drops it to the side. “It’s not gonna feel like that every time,” he says. “Sometime I’m gonna come home from Cas’s and I’m gonna say we were fucking all weekend while you were studying for your final and you’re gonna be jealous, Sammy. It’s going to happen.”

“Maybe it is,” Sam says. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Dean, I love you. Cas loves you. And Cas and I-- we think there’s something here too. Maybe it’s not the way it is between you and me, not yet, but it could be. And as long as we’re honest, as long as you don’t come home from a weekend and say you were playing cards when you were really making videos, I think it can work. I want to try, Dean. Don’t you want to try?”

Castiel reaches out his hand, too. “Dean,” he says, his voice soft, patiently urging.

But Dean’s not quite ready. “And what if we’re not making videos?” he says. “What if I’m just with him because I want to be with him?”

He waits for the worry to cross Sam’s face, but it never comes. Sam just smiles. “Then we really will be all equals,” he says. “Please, Dean. I want this. I want to see what happens with Cas. With both of you. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work. But if it does... God, it’ll be so great.”

Two hands stretch out to him. Two men he loves, asking him for a leap of faith. He’s never been able to say no to either of them.

He lifts his hands and completes the circle.


	5. CollegeAngels.com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU. Dean and Sam have always been a little too close, and Dean knows it's wrong -- so he heads to college, hoping that he'll meet someone there who will keep his mind off his little brother. He meets Castiel, who has a business proposal for him --- join Cas in bed, and online, for live webcam site CollegeAngels.com. Through Castiel, Dean learns about sex, kink, and freedom, and he finally feels pride instead of shame for who he is. But then Sam gets accepted to the same school, and he wants to live with Dean...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/profile)[**obstinatrix***](http://obstinatrix.livejournal.com/) for an amazing beta and [](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://dazedrose.livejournal.com/)**dazedrose** for panty-melting art!

  


Chapter 5

The first thing they do as a threesome is go out to eat.

Sam never did get to have lunch. And sulking and agonizing can work up an appetite. So after they squeeze hands, and smile, and Dean’s stomach grumbles louder than the trumpet of an African elephant, they laugh and decide that food would really be a good basis on which to build a new relationship. They tumble into a booth at the Thai place down the block and order steaming noodles and pork dumplings. Dean eases in beside Cas, worried that the simple question of who he sits next to in a restaurant will undo the whole arrangement. But Sam’s legs squeeze Dean’s right leg and Cas’s left leg between them, and he massages their ankles with his own for the whole dinner, building up a pleasant friction as they look at each other and grin and talk about normal college things.

Dean has missed Castiel’s heat next to him, and he dares, as the evening goes on, to lean into it. He watches Sam the whole time, half afraid Sam will snap halfway through the dinner and start to become tense, or frown, or shift uncomfortably. Something to indicate he’s not nearly as comfortable with Dean and Castiel being close as he’s said. But Sam keeps smiling, and if anything, his eyes seem to soften as Dean gets closer to Castiel, his breath coming a little quicker when their shoulders rub and Castiel turns to share a heated glance with Dean. The vortex of air between the three points of their triangle is warming up as the minutes tick away.

And then, Sam’s ankle slides up Dean’s calf almost to his knee. Dean sucks in a short breath, and Sam leans over the table.

“You know what we could be doing right now?” he says.

Dean almost swallows his tongue.

“He has a point,” says Castiel, dropping his hand to squeeze Dean’s thigh.

“Check, please,” says Dean.

 

  
They cheat all the way home. Hands slipping by hands, hands on shoulders that last too long, glances, licking lips... it’s nothing that anyone would look twice at, but for the three of them it’s slow foreplay, and it ratchets up the heat that surrounds them, degree by steady degree. The touching slips into overt hand-holding on the staircase on the way back up to Castiel’s apartment, Sam-Dean-Castiel in a chain, conversation gone, all three silent.

The door opens. They slither in one by one by one. Sam rounds on the door and closes it fast. Castiel lurches toward the white-noise machine and cranks it up to its maximum setting.

And they stand, suddenly unconnected, staring at one another.

“Oh, my God,” Dean says. “Where do I start?”

“Wherever you want,” Castiel says. Sam nods agreement.

Dean frowns. “But...I mean, if I choose one first, isn’t... It’s gonna seem like I’m playing favorites. And I can’t--”

Sam laughs and takes Castiel’s hand. “Tell you what. What if we start?”

Dean’s jaw hangs open. He trembles a little. It takes him a good moment to manage an “...okay.”

And then he just watches, body useless and heavy but heating up, as Sam pulls Castiel close and kisses him, long and slow and sweet and full of possibility. Sam’s hands track across Castiel’s stubble. Castiel’s mouth opens, his lips wet and soft and pliable. A flicker of Sam’s tongue. A soft moan, another. Dean’s breath comes shallow, and it sounds way too loud. He’s almost ashamed of it. Just watching them kiss is reducing him to a hoarse, awkward teenager. With a hell of a boner, at that.

And to make it worse, they turn to face him just as he gives in and adjusts.

Sam breaks into a grin. Castiel’s eyebrow rises, and he smirks in that barely-there way of his.

“Hot,” Dean breathes, a lame attempt at explanation. They both just grin harder.

That’s it. Dean’s not gonna let them tease him. He strides forward, grabs them by the waists, and orders them in a gruff voice, “Again.”

This time he’s got the close-up view, can see each movement of their mouths, the swipe of their tongues, can feel the moans rumble up from their lungs and vibrate down their spines into his hands. Sam’s head tilts to the side, and Dean can’t help himself - he leans in and runs his tongue over his brother’s neck; Sam shudders, his voice rising into a strong groan, and he reaches out to pull Dean closer, making his hips bump theirs. Dean’s cock slides against Sam’s thigh, and they both make noise then.

Castiel pulls away, to see what’s happening, and Dean hears the rasp of his breath as his lips break from Sam’s. He turns, head still tilted into the crook of Sam’s neck, and Castiel moves quickly to catch his lips. He tastes like Sam, like Thai and saliva and want, and Dean isn’t sure his knees will hold out when Castiel’s tongue slides into his mouth and licks, carefully and deliberately, along his teeth and lips and tongue.

“Oh, Jesus, that’s so much hotter than on the video,” Sam breathes in his ear. “Wanted to see this so bad.”

Dean tries to say something, but it surges into Castiel’s mouth and ends up as a wordless noise. Castiel pulls away to let him speak.

He turns to Sam. “You wanted to...?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. His voice is that same awed, breathy hush. “It was so hot, Dean. Watching you on that site. Watching the two of you -- I can’t wait to see it all for real. I can’t--”

Dean surges up and kisses him hard. And now there’s the other half of it -- Castiel’s taste on Sam’s mouth, the way Sam’s had been there when Cas kissed him -- and Dean’s dizzy, layers of sensation looping over each other on his tongue and before his eyes and in his heart. He pulls back in another second, hissing, taking in breath. The words come out unbidden, “Love you, Sammy.”

“I love you too, Dean,” Sam says, but now that doesn’t make the circle complete. Now there’s more Dean needs to say.

He turns to Cas, lifts his hand from Cas’s waist and slides it onto his face. Castiel’s eyelids droop to half-mast, the expression that begs for a kiss. Dean indulges him, kissing Castiel soft and slow and sweet.

“And I love you,” Dean whispers, hoarse, on the tail end of it. “Cas, I really do.”

Castiel takes in a breath, then settles his head onto Dean’s shoulder, exhaling hard against his collarbone. He’s shaking with relief, and though Dean doesn’t quite hear the declaration that Castiel whispers, he knows what was said.

Dean sighs, runs one hand along Sam’s back, strokes the nape of Castiel’s neck with the other. “Am I really...” he says in a shaky voice. “Can I really have this?”

“Dean, _yes_. Yes, you can. And I’ll keep telling you until you believe it.” Sam’s smile is like sunshine. Dean’s half-blinded by it.

“But how do I deserve both of you?”

“It’s not about deserving us, Dean,” Castiel says. “We are not your reward. This will be a relationship, and you will have to treat it with care, just as you would with only one partner. As will Sam and I.”

“I don’t know... I can’t help feeling like I got the better deal,” Dean says. “Like you guys are getting the short end of the stick.”

“Dean.” Sam’s tone drops. “Does this stick feel short to you?” And he rolls his hips against Dean’s in a way that very decisively ends the conversation.

Dean laughs. “Not much I can say to that.”

“Should we go into the bedroom?” Castiel says. “I could turn on the camera.”

“No. No camera.” Dean leans in and kisses him. “This is for us.”

_November 3_

They don’t bother to introduce themselves again. Castiel switches on the camera, and Sam and Dean are already lying on the bed, kissing, their hands roving over each other’s bodies. Dean breaks from Sam’s lips long enough to moan Cas’s name, and a moment later, Castiel’s coming to lie behind him. Dean rolls his hips back against Castiel’s, and two pairs of hands stroke his thighs and sides. One mouth ravishes his lips. Another lands on his neck. Dean’s moaning brokenly, hard, his hips rolling from back to front and then again.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he whispers into Sam’s mouth, “want you both so fucking bad.”

Sam strokes their cocks together in one huge hand as Castiel opens him up; Dean whimpers, swearing a blue streak, begging for more and to slow down before he comes. At last, Castiel holds him steady and pushes into him, and Dean arches back against him, groaning hard. Sam grabs his neck, forces him into hard kisses, and rubs them together until Dean’s breaking into loud moans and spattering dots of white against Sam’s stomach. He rolls onto his stomach, lets Castiel climb on top of him to finish, and Sam strokes himself to orgasm as he rubs Dean’s back.

And at the end, all three of them turn to the camera and say, “Surprise.”

_November 15_

_balthazar33: Fuck can’t believe we get all 3 of you... what about putting Cas in the middle this time_

“Something tells me he’d love that,” Sam says, his hand on Castiel’s thigh as the three of them read the chat feed. Castiel nods, and Dean runs a hand up his back. “Yeah, Cas, you want to be in the middle?”

“One condition,” Castiel murmurs. “You both get a turn inside me. I want to feel the difference between you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna compare us now? Tell us which is better?”

Castiel turns to scowl at him. “I haven’t had enough experience with Sam to do that yet,” he says. “I need to fuck you both many, many more times before I decide who’s better.”

“I think I see what you’re up to,” Dean murmurs. He flashes a quick grin and then climbs up the bed. Castiel follows, falling into his arms with a growl.

Sam offers a smile and a “Thanks for the suggestion” to the camera before coming to join them.

_December 8_

_bisexygurl: Sam’s turn in the center. When are you gonna double stuff him hm?_

“Oh, Jesus,” Sam murmurs at the thought. “Really?”

“It’ll feel so good, Sammy.” Dean’s comforting whisper is pressed into his lips, and Sam’s moaning already, pressing into Dean’s arms and turning, when Castiel comes to the bed, to push needy kisses into his mouth, too.

“God, fuck, _yes_ ,” he murmurs, “yes, want you both, _God_.”

They work him open together -- finger sliding in alongside finger, Dean and Cas turning to kiss each other as Sam moans with the feel of them -- and then Castiel slides underneath Sam, eases Sam’s loose ass down onto his cock, and pulls him down.

Sam’s body moves in a long curve, ass pushed out just enough for Dean to find his way in, easing himself to sit astride Castiel’s thighs and slide in nice and tight next to him. The noise Sam makes shakes the bed; he flattens himself against Castiel’s body, licking and nipping his mouth. Dean rises to his knees and thrusts in hard.

“Fuck!” Sam grabs the sides of the bed, long arms extending to span its width, and he grunts, then pushes back against Dean’s hips. Castiel cries out beneath him.

“Feel good?” Dean mutters, curling forward to graze his teeth along Sam’s spine.

“So good... so _fucking_ full... oh, god, yeah!” Sam cries out, his body rippling again, and Castiel reaches out to hold him close and brace him against the force of Dean’s thrust.

The bedframe creaks dangerously, but they’re all three of them making so much noise they don’t hear it.

_December 16_

“So we broke the bed.”

“Yeah. So we’re gonna come back after the first of the year with a better bed.”

“And possibly some other interesting equipment.”

“Don’t promise them things we can’t deliver on.”

“I thought we had budgeted for the spreader bar, at least...”

“...In any case, thanks for all the pageviews. And Happy Holidays!”

_January 30_

“We’re back. Sorry for the long-time-no-porn. We kept...” Dean scratches his head. “We kept forgetting to turn the camera on. But the good news is, the new bed’s nice and battle-tested now.”

“You’ve been a bad boy, Dean.” The laughter is apparent in Sam;s voice, even as he tries to sound like a serious dom. “You weren’t supposed to tell them all that. You’ll have to be punished.”

“Into the cuffs.” Castiel, at the head of the bed, jangles them ominously before locking one cuff around the bedpost. He doesn’t sound like he’s laughing at all.

Dean winks at the camera. “I think I’m in trouble,” he stage-whispers before climbing up the bed and offering himself to his two masters.

Spread-eagled, cuffed to the bed, Dean gives them the best bring-it-on sneer he can manage, but instead of lashes he gets soft biting kisses to his arms and legs, flickers of tongue on his nipples and teeth skimming across his stomach. “You guys are... agh... way too gentle,” he teases, but the insistent upward thrust of his hips and the trembling hard jut of his cock aren’t nearly as macho. When Sam and Castiel lick at the tip of his cock with wet tongues, then seal their mouths together over it, Dean thrashes hard enough to make the cuffs chime like jingle bells. “Fuck,” he whispers, “fuck, suck it, both of you fucking suck it.” They don’t; they just slide down the shaft to tease his balls and thighs, and Dean strains and groans, head flying back as he tries desperately to push his dick into one of their mouths, then the other.

Then they rise up, kissing and fondling each other before his eyes, Sam’s hand pulling at Castiel’s cock and Castiel returning the favor, and Dean is shouting himself hoarse. “I have to come, oh, my God, guys-- fucking let me come already-- shit!”

Sam turns to him with a wicked grin and picks up a cock ring from the nightstand.

Dean’s grunts of frustration make a spectacular background to Sam’s vigorous fucking of Cas, and it’s only after they’re both done that they release the ring and watch the grand finale of Dean’s long-delayed orgasm with matching sadistic smiles.

_February 3_

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day. We have a really special announcement coming up. But as you guys head toward that day, remember to treat the one you love with respect and never take him or her for granted.”

“And make sure to get your loved one a really thoughtful gift. Something you know they’ll like.”

“For example. I know Sam likes toys.”

“Yes. Sam likes all kinds of toys. Vibrators, plugs, pumps, nipple clamps. Don’t you, Sam?”

The bound and gagged figure on the bed just nods desperately. Something somewhere on his body buzzes, and he arches and moans.

“That was because I love you,” Dean says, holding up a remote control and winking.

Castiel takes the remote, looks it over, and punches a random button. Sam screams into the gag. Pre-come splashes onto his stomach, and he humps the air.

“And that,” Castiel says, “was because I love you too, Sam.”

Dean turns to him. “Is that the first time you’ve said that?”

Castiel cocks his head. “Well, of course. Didn’t you know it already, though?”

“I did, but it’s still awesome to hear you say it.” Dean leans over and kisses him, and Castiel slides his arms around Dean’s neck. His hand is still closed around the remote, though, and as they cling to each other and kiss harder, another button gets pushed and Sam makes another animal noise.

Castiel breaks the kiss and smirks. “I suppose we should go tend to him.”

“I guess so.” They smile at each other, then turn their attention to Sam.

  
_February 14_

“Are you sure about this?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Castiel looks daggers at Sam, who raises his palms as though surrendering.

“I’m just saying,” he goes on, “in case something falls through at the last minute...”

“Nothing’s going to fall through,” Dean says. “Besides, it’s not like we have much of a choice.”

Sam frowns. “I don’t mean that. I know about that. I’m just nervous about the new deal. What if it--”

“Sammy.” Dean takes him by the arm and yanks him down onto the bed. “Things are gonna be fine. Relax.” He gets a pouty look in return, but it’s worth it.

Castiel waits for them to stop glaring at each other before setting up the camera. “Are you ready?”

“As we’ll ever be,” Dean says with a too-wide grin, stomping on Sam’s foot to keep him quiet.

“All right, then.”

The red light on the webcam flickers, then holds a steady red glow. Castiel sits down next to Dean and nudges him to start.

“So,” Dean says, waving at the camera, “hi, guys.”

The chat room lights up with immediate responses -- _hi dean_ and _happy v-day, too bad you can’t take my v-card lolol_ \- and mostly _whats the big announcement?_ Lots of that last one. They’ve been expecting it. Monitoring the forums over the past week, they’ve seen a lot of speculation about what Castiel and his playmates are planning on springing on them. Guesses range from a we-quit-doing-porn announcement to the addition of a fourth to their threesome. Neither are true.

Sam chimes in. “We know you all have been worried about our big announcement, so we’ll cut to the chase. This spring, Castiel is graduating. Which means he’s no longer eligible to be a College Angel.”

Lots of _wut_ and _i knew it_ and _so what now_ fills the screen.

“And we’ve all talked about it,” Sam goes on, “and decided we really don’t want to keep doing webcasts on CollegeAngels.com without him. So Dean and I will also be leaving the site.”

“But we’ll be moving,” Dean says, “to a new site. This one’s just for the three of us. And it’s gonna be a pretty cool site. See, the three of us, we’re gonna move into a house together. And the house is gonna have cameras.”

Castiel clears his throat. “When we’re performing,” he says, “you’ll be able to choose between cameras and angles at your leisure. You can follow two or more at once. We won’t be performing all the time, but we will leave the cameras on as much as we feel comfortable. And we think it will be a very interesting experience.”

The first _what’s the new site?_ is quickly followed by the second, and the first three _SIGN ME UP_ s happen in all caps before anyone thinks to ask about the subscriber fee. Dean steals a look at Sam, who’s grinning, and leans over to squeeze Castiel’s shoulder. “This is gonna work,” he mutters, his heart soaring.

“Yes,” Castiel says, leaning over to brush soft lips against his ear, “it is.”

Sam lays his hand on Dean’s back, strokes upward. The current of excitement in the small room is overwhelming, and he’s fighting the urge to just lean in and hold them both tight. But someone’s got to think about the chat room. “We’re going to have all the details to you in the next few days,” he says. “But in the meantime, we’re not going to leave you on Valentine’s Day without giving you our thanks for everything. So please enjoy our last show.”

Dean leans back into his hand, instinctively, and Sam curls his other arm around Dean’s waist, pulling him close. Curled in the protective circle of Sam’s arms, with Sam’s legs opening to provide him a seat between them, Dean sighs, holds Castiel’s hand as he turns to kiss Sam. The kiss is soft and aching, and it seems to go on forever. Just him and Sam, and Castiel close by, and lips and wetness and closeness. He doesn’t even make a sound. It’s all about the feel.

A moment later, Castiel’s tongue is wet on his neck. Dean moans and mumbles into the kiss. “Love you both so much.” Sometimes he says it because he’s incredulous, sometimes he says it to get an answer. Right now he’s saying it because it’s swelling beneath his skin, and he has to let it out. He’s amazed his body doesn’t burst with the intensity of it all.

Castiel slides a hand down his thigh, lands on his knee and feathers his fingers there, light enough to make Dean twitch. Sam breaks their kiss to lift off his own shirt, then slides his hands up Dean’s chest. Too many fingertips, too much sensation. Dean gulps, his whole body twitching. “Oh, God,” he mumbles, rolling his head to the other side, catching Castiel’s mouth with his own.

His lips are on Cas’s lips, but he’s aware more of both their hands -- one on his knee, one teasing against his hardening nipple, two joined behind his back and stroking each other’s fingers against his skin. He parts, sucks in another breath, and lets it out raggedly. Sam moves down his body to take one nipple in his mouth. Without Sam’s body to hold him up, Dean melts, falling backward to the bed with a groan. Castiel follows, his kiss insistent, weight and heat settling onto Dean as he goes. Sam stays behind long enough to pull off his old shirt, then yank at Dean’s pants and boxers to get him naked.

He hisses with the sudden exposure, and Castiel swallows the noise, licks a louder moan from his mouth and grabs both his hands. He pins them above Dean’s head, entangling their fingers, and keeps kissing him, slow and methodical, as Sam lowers his body to Dean’s. Warm chest swiping up his legs, mouth pressed into the crux of his thighs. Dean cries out, a hard noise, mouth breaking from Castiel’s to push a jagged shout into the air as Sam’s mouth washes over his balls. “Sam, holy _fuck_...”

“Want to eat you out, Dean,” Sam murmurs, maybe not loud enough for the camera to pick up, but the sound ripples through Dean’s body as though it’s thunder. “Want to taste deep inside you, watch Cas fuck you knowing you’re all wet with me.”

“Shit, Sammy.” Dean can’t keep still enough for Cas to kiss anymore. He rears back, and Castiel trails down his neck, presses fluttering kisses everywhere and groans into his throat with that gravel-raw voice. The vibrations resonate in Dean’s chest. “God, I want it, want it so bad, Sammy--” He breaks one hand free from Cas’s grip, grabs him and pulls him close. “Cas, shit, don’t let go of me, I can’t--”

And then Sam is pushing his legs up, rocking him backward gently, and the first slip of Sam’s wet mouth against his hole is too much. Dean screams, making himself hoarse, arms tightening around Cas’s back as he rocks back and forth into the soft slippery lips that are only just teasing, not even inside him yet. “Fuck, _fuck_ ,” he chants, almost crying, his cock slapping a quick rhythm against his stomach with each rock of his pelvis. Castiel takes it in his free hand and holds fast, keeps him grounded, makes him stay steady and still as Sam works his way in.

“Love you,” Castiel whispers, his other hand still tangled up with Dean’s above his head. Dean groans, slow, and finds some control; he takes in measured breaths, leans in to rest his head in the crook of Castiel’s neck, and tries to just feel the steady, hot lick of Sam’s tongue inside of him. Castiel’s hand pulses on his cock in time with his slowing breathing. For a moment they’re all calm, all in time.

And then Castiel’s breath hitches, and he whimpers against Dean’s hair; Dean glances down and sees Sam’s hand, snaking up around Castiel’s dick, even as his mouth is still busy. Castiel bucks into the touch, gasping, and the excitement floods Dean in a rush. He hisses, watches with wide eyes as Sam’s hand works, sliding up along the ridge of Castiel’s cock and over the head, holding fast as Castiel’s hips start to rut in quick circles.

“So good,” Dean murmurs, and Castiel echoes the words, his voice breaking. Sam hums in response, his voice reverberating through Dean’s body, and he closes his eyes. God, right now they are all so connected, so stupidly in love, and if Dean could pull them so close they melted into his skin he would. He wants everything, but more than that he loves them so much, and there’s no such thing as too much skin or so much sweat right now. No such thing as too much sensation, and he holds Castiel steady, looking down at Sam and urging, voice hard, “Sammy, come up here, come on, I’m ready.”

Sam takes one last long lick, kisses his thigh with a wet sound, and slides upward. His mouth tastes of sweat and musk, dark and enticing, and Dean takes a long taste of it, pulling his other hand down from above his head to cradle Sam close. He angles his body toward Castiel’s then, whispers, “Taste him,” and ruts his cock against Castiel’s as Cas and Sam kiss above his head. The wet sounds of their kiss, so close to his ears, are so obscene and dirty and good that Dean can feel his balls getting heavy. He swallows hard, tries to hold himself back.

“Fuck my mouth,” he murmurs to Sam. “While he fucks me, come on.”

Sam groans. “For a minute,” he says. “Got a better idea.” Dean cocks his head, and Sam winks. “Trust me.”

“Could never say no to you,” Dean manages hoarsely, and he stares at Sam, smiling, as Castiel works his way down the bed to steady himself against Dean’s hips and well-licked hole.

Dean braces himself against the bed, but he’s silent as Castiel works his way in; Castiel’s the first to groan, looking at him with glazed eyes. “You’re so slick,” he says, “Sam’s licked you out so well,” and Sam grins, shucks his hand up his own cock, and guides it toward Dean’s mouth. Dean opens wide to take him, and it’s then -- when he’s full of cock, stuffed and overwhelmed, with sensations burning along his throat and spine -- that he has to groan, a long sound that’s muffled in the long, thick column of Sam’s shaft and against the swell of his balls.

He can’t see what’s going on above him -- his neck is craned to the side so he can take Sam in easier -- but he is sure he feels Sam shifting, hears him murmur something. A moment later, the angle inside him changes -- a rush of fullness he doesn’t expect -- and Castiel is leaning down over him, hiking his legs up so he can come close enough to kiss. His lips trail along Dean’s neck, lick at the bulging swell of his cheek where Sam’s cock is outlined, and Dean and Sam both groan. Sam pulls out, nudges Dean’s head upward with one gentle hand, and Dean meets Castiel’s eyes His mouth drops open, and Castiel nips at his lower lip, sucks on it briefly, then lets go so he can muscle in another deep thrust.

“Oh, God,” Dean whispers.

“Dean,” Cas mutters. “So good.”

And then Sam’s cock is sliding against Dean’s cheek, tip bumping his lips. Dean purses his mouth to kiss at it, sticks out his tongue to lick it, and through wide eyes he sees Castiel doing the same. Two pairs of lips layer sticky wetness over Sam’s cock, and Sam arches, groaning in a full voice and tangling his hands in Castiel’s hair as he slides, again and again, into the space between their lips. He pulls Castiel’s mouth down over Dean’s, slots in the tip of his cock, and they’re kissing over him, tongues darting and touching, lips smacking in a counter-rhythm to the loud slaps of Castiel’s hips against Dean’s with each thrust.

Dean moans with each completion, again with each touch of his lips and tongue to Castiel’s over Sam’s cock. He can’t lick or kiss or suck enough. Cas and Sam, right there, inside him and on him and around him. The sounds that fill the air. It’s more than he can handle, all of it, and all he can do is push back with more sound and movement, press the intensity of the feeling back up into Sam’s dick, Castiel’s hips and mouth. And still the electric shocks keep coming, keep multiplying, and the friction of Castiel’s stomach against his cock builds as he thrusts and slides up faster and faster. Castiel’s thighs tense between his own. They’re close, they’re both close.

“Fuck,” Sam whispers just as he’s thinking it, “I’m almost there...”

Dean fastens his lips against Castiel’s, and they both suck hard on the head of Sam’s dick.

The explosion comes in a wave, Sam first, then Castiel inside Dean, and Dean rutting up wildly into Castiel’s warm stomach. A cry, an overlapping shout, and Dean’s desperate, strangled noise -- all three of them riding the edge, then toppling off, within seconds of each other. Warm, sticky come covers Dean’s face, Castiel’s too. The stuff dribbles into his lips, drips off his chin and pools in the hollow of his neck. Sam’s hips come to a stuttering stop, and he looms over them, rubbing their shoulders and hair desperately, breathing heavy, slowing sighs. Dean licks at Castiel’s face, tries to clean it with his tongue, and Castiel returns the favor -- soft sucking kisses to each other’s faces that go on for a minute.

God knows how long they linger there, Castiel still buried in him, Sam still towering over the both of them, breathing heavy. But somehow they melt down, separate and lie there, winded and sticky, trading kisses and dumb grins and running loving hands over each other’s sweat-slick bodies. Side by side by side, pressed together, they breathe, the air cooling around them, lazy heat still burning wherever their skin touches.

Sam’s hand crosses over Dean, touches Castiel’s hip. Castiel crooks one leg over both Dean’s and Sam’s thighs. All of them, touching all of them, nobody left out. The little red eye of the camera takes them all in, and it’s like a blessing. That small and constant light, connecting them with the world, promising that they’re all right and they don’t have to hide.

And then it occurs to him. “The camera,” he groans. “We should turn off the camera.”

“I forgot,” Sam murmurs, but his voice is just as sleepy as Dean’s, his limbs just as leaden.

Castiel attempts to move, but the languor has taken him over too. “Why don’t we just sleep?” he says. “We can turn it off in the morning.”

“Works for me,” Dean says. “Cause I’m sure as hell not moving.”

Sam grins. “We should say goodbye, though. Since once we turn off that camera, it’s not going back on again.” He lifts his head and nods at the camera. “Good night, everyone.”

“Goodbye, Collegeangels.com,” Castiel says sleepily, and drops his head to Dean’s shoulder, already falling asleep.

Before he lets his own eyes close, Dean stares straight into the camera and adds, in a soft voice:

“And thank you. For everything.”

_15 Years Later_

The money from the latest video was enough to get the three of them to Key West for a long weekend, but now they’re home, tumbling in through the front door and still talking about the dolphins and the crazy guy at the airport and the octopus Castiel saw while snorkeling. Dean grabs the mail and sifts through it absently as they set down their suitcases, and while Sam pops every joint in his body, Dean slides his finger under the flap of an envelope and pulls it open.

He makes a groaning noise. “Down from last month,” he says.

Castiel looks over his shoulder. “Not by that much.”

“But still down,” Dean says. “Third month in a row, isn’t it?”

“Dean.” Sam rolls his eyes. “We just got back from vacation. Try not to stress up the house already.”

Dean glares at him. “I’m not stressing up anything.”

Castiel lays a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Give him a break. You’ll understand when you turn 35. You begin to worry if your youth is slipping away. In our line of work, that can be distressing.”

Sam sighs and nods. “Wondering how long you can keep it up?”

“If you make a little-blue-pill joke, Sammy, so help me...”

“Whoa!” Sam raises his hands and laughs. “I didn’t mean that.”

“I doubt your virility is in question, Dean,” Castiel says.

“It better not be, after the weekend we just had.” Dean slides his arms around Castiel and lays a biting kiss on his neck. Castiel’s eyes sink closed, and he gives a soft groan. Sam grins, watches them for a second, then, when Castiel’s head tips back, takes advantage of the upturned lips to kiss them. Castiel’s tongue snakes into his mouth, hungry.

“Whoa, whoa,” Sam breathes into his mouth. “We just got off an airplane. Aren’t you tired?”

“Make me tired,” is Castiel’s growled response.

“Shower?” Dean suggests, his hands grabbing at Sam’s and Castiel’s hips, drawing them in.

“Mm,” Sam says, nuzzling Castiel’s chin. “Should I turn the cameras back on?”

“Guess we should make the money while we can,” Dean says. “Before I need the little blue pills.”

“All right, that one you brought on yourself.” Sam steps back, slides his hand quick over Castiel’s ass and kisses the top of Dean’s head. “You guys go ahead, I’ll stop in the control room and get things going. Save some energy for me.”

Dean nods, hand slipping around Castiel’s waist. “We’ll see you in there.”

“And for what it’s worth,” Castiel says, “I’m sure my capabilities will go long before yours do. I expect you both to continue after I’m too old to draw an audience.”

“Shut up. You’ll be doing it till you’re 80.”

They bicker all the way out down the front hall and toward the bathroom where the three of them have installed their huge shower. It took them ten years to save up to get it, and it’s still one of their favorite places in the house -- seats and open windows just above eye level, sunlight streaming in while they bathe. These days it’s about even odds whether they get it on in there, and it’s possible that Sam will walk in five minutes from now to discover the two of them just cuddling, or chatting. It’s not that they’re any less hot for each other.... it’s just life, and life has a way of changing. They’re no longer tireless College Angels -- they’re adults, with day jobs and lives. And the subterfuge of hiding their way of life wreaks its own kind of damage. But it’s worth it to be together, and the money they make on CasDeanSam.com is a nice incentive, too. The recent video deal has brought in another stream of income, but they _are_ getting older, and someday they won’t have quite so many hours of footage to pick through for another video release.

But what’s weird is, Sam monitors the site statistics, and people actually watch them when they’re not having sex. Their life outside of the bedroom still feeds people’s fantasies, and for that Sam’s actually proud.

He remembers telling Dean, when they were teenagers, that what they felt for each other was a one-in-a-million connection. He still believes that, and it’s gratifying to know it’s so rare, and so appreciated, that people seek it out, that people pay money just to see how three people, two of them brothers, can honestly and truly love each other so much, for so long.

Switching on the cameras in the small den they call the control room, Sam gazes over the screens until he sees Dean and Castiel in the shower. Dean’s pushed Castiel up against the wall and is kissing him thoroughly, jacking their cocks together in one hand. Sam watches for a few minutes, smile growing on his face -- and other things growing in other places as well, of course -- until Castiel gives a soft cry and Dean growls, face angled toward the camera, “Sam, you better get in here or we’re not waiting for you.”

It’s an empty threat -- they’ll always wait for him -- but Sam rises, strips off his shirt, and heads at top speed for the bathroom anyway. He wouldn’t miss this for the world.

**The End**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [CollegeAngels.com](https://archiveofourown.org/works/661717) by [dazedrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dazedrose/pseuds/dazedrose)




End file.
